Past The Veil
by beatlejuice2712
Summary: When Sirius Black fell through the veil, he didn't fall to his death, he fell to his future. But it's not his- at least, it shouldn't be. What can they do with an ex-convict who's been legally declared dead for the last sixteen years?
1. The valiant never taste of death

_ Author's Note: An Introduction_

_Hello! What happened to Sirius Black is a much-theorised topic, lets be honest. The fact there's no body makes it hard to believe that he died. And I've seen a lot of fanfictions in which he survives (I love the denial in those ones the most) or ones where someone else falls through the veil and is transported back to the past (always to the marauders. Always.) But I thought this would be an interesting take on it! I've got absolutely no idea where the story will go so if it seems to fizzle out to nothing or updates stop for a while don't be surprised! (And I apologise in advance.) But please let me know what you think! (And also let me know if you've read any good 'what-happened-with-sirius-and-the-veil' stories because I want to read some!)_

Chapter One: The valiant never taste of death but once

_"Sirius had only just fallen through the archway, he would reappear from the other side any second… But Sirius did not reappear." – Harry Potter & The Order of The Phoenix. P.711_

It was the shock that set in first. This was it, he thought. He was about to die. Sirius Black- stubborn, untouchable, invincible Sirius Black- was about to die. He had disgusted his own family, he had been chewed up and spat out by Azkaban, and he had wished Dementor attacks on himself to alleviate boredom in his own home. He sought peril, adventure and conflict for the heady thrill of reward. He'd always make one more joke, take one step closer, throw one more curse. But now he had pushed his luck one last time. He remembered laughing- laughing at what, he didn't know. He remembered a high pitched shriek, a cackle, female, someone he knew. He was shouting. He was taunting. He was provoking. Then there was light. Blinding light, blinding, dazzling, agonising light.

Next, it was the pain. His chest was burning. It was excruciating, unbearable, intense. It was like nothing he had experienced. He felt as though each nerve was white-hot, searing and scorching. Flames cascaded across every inch of flesh, burning a hole through every layer. As though his insides had been ripped out. Agonising screams tore him apart, limb from limb.

He was falling backwards in slow motion, his face paralysed and stained with the ghosts of his final smile. A papery thin sheet of material fluttered over him and slowly, slowly, he landed on the cold stone floor. Then silence. Complete, subduing, breath-taking silence. And control. He was in control. The pain no longer surged through him, he was no longer frozen in shock. He wasn't screaming, convulsing, or frightened.

The battle that raged around him had gone, but the shouted curses being thrown at his friends still ricocheted through his mind. He winced as his eyes adjusted to the new dark, imagining flares of light shooting past. He recoiled trying to dodge nothing, he covered his ears trying to block out silence.

The room was dimly lit and rectangular. Stone benches ran all around the room and descended in steep steps like an amphitheatre, to a sunken, great stone pit in the centre. It was here that he lay, on the raised stone dais beneath the ancient, cracked and crumbling archway. The tattered black curtain was fluttering very slightly, most likely from when he had just fallen through. Old though it was, the archway had a kind of beauty about it. Mesmerising beauty.

He dragged himself off the ground, and crawled closer. He made desperate motions towards the veil, stretching his arm out in front of him like a blind man, and clutching at it with his hand. He took hold of a handful of the fabric and tore it aside. Nothing. He could see straight through the archway. There was only the other side of the room behind it. There was nothing hidden there- no secret passage back to the battlefield. However he got here, he wasn't getting back.

The pain, the light, the nothingness. It must be death. He thought that someone might have been here to greet him, to welcome him to the afterlife. Would someone enter through the door at any moment? Would he know them? Or would they be a stranger, someone to accompany him to wherever it was he was going.

What if someone else fell though the veil? Harry, Moony, any of the Weasley's. There was faint, whispering, murmuring noises coming from the strange sheet. He could hear voices, it was like they were shouting.

"Sirius!" Harry's muffled voice pierced the air. It was filled with anger, grief, some kind of strangled emotion; it tore through Sirius's heart. He would bleed to death at the pain of it. He should be there to protect Harry.

"Harry." Sirius called out desperately. "Stay back, Harry!" His voice was scraped out and handed through the dark like it was all that remained of him. As if they were the last words he would ever speak.

"There's nothing you can do." The words drifted through the veil languidly. It was Moony. Poor, brave Moony. Poor, brave, lonely Moony. Sirius balled his hand into a fist and threw it at the hard ground. He was helpless- why did he have to die?!

Wizards. It seemed like all they ever did was kill each other.

But wherever he was, and despite whatever was erupting elsewhere, Sirius felt at peace. He was calm, he was content, and he thought he was dead. He could lie there for the rest of forever, and for the rest of whatever's longer than forever, without a thought, without a care, and without a past. Without a future. There had never been anything so beautiful or sad.

He lay back down on the floor. He didn't feel dead. He felt far too much to be dead. So perhaps he was not dead. But he was not alive, either. He was stuck in some kind of limbo; not brave enough for Heaven, not cruel enough for Hell.

But lying alone on the cold floor in the dark, deserted room wouldn't achieve much. If he was dead, he should face it, and if he wasn't, he should probably face that too. Whatever that was. It was just the next adventure in Sirius Black's convoluted life.

He rose slowly from the floor. Every muscle ached and every movement was slow and tired. He felt dazed but somehow he managed to climb along the stone steps to the doors at the top. It had been barely an hour since he had crashed through them to save Harry. What a difference an hour could make. The eerie quiet of his surroundings just didn't seem real; especially not after the battlefield he had come from.

He wrenched open the door and stumbled backwards, swaying, trying to stay upright. It was still like before; it was still just another room. It even still had the same doors around it, so he knew which one would lead him out- out where, he wasn't entirely sure. If he was still in the Ministry of Magic, then it would lead him to the atrium.

He had to find the others. Wherever they were. He knew he was no longer in the middle of the fight, and he was no longer trying to save his Godson and the prophecy. Every room was silent; there was no one around so the duellers had not moved elsewhere.

Perhaps the veil was a sort of time turner. Had he been transported back to before Voldemort lured Harry to the Ministry? Does this mean he has a chance to warn Harry? To hell with time laws, he would save his Godson. Or had he been transported back even further? Was there even more he could save? He began to run through every bad decision that he would rectify.

The quiet began to put him on edge and he began to think about the possibility that maybe Harry's vision had been right, maybe he was about to get tortured for information, maybe this had been a trick by Voldemort to lure _Sirius_ here, maybe he was about to be propositioned; offered complete freedom in exchange for information on the Order of the Phoenix. Sirius had to be on his guard. He had no idea where anyone else was, he had no idea where _he _was, and now he didn't know if Voldemort would materialise around the corner. Or worse- a ministry official. Voldemort he could handle, but if someone from the Ministry recognised him he'd be straight back to Azkaban.

He could not take the door that lead to the floo network and the way out. A wanted man could not simply stroll into the atrium of the Ministry of Magic. Instead, he picked another door at random, pulled it open, and dragged himself through. He ignored everything in it, until he found another doorway, another staircase, another secret passage. All those years of scouring the Hogwarts hallways for hidden shortcuts was finally paying off.

Somehow he ended up on a corridor he didn't recognise on a floor he'd never been on. The department boards said 'Magical Law Enforcement'. Excellent. This was exactly where an Azkaban escapee would want to end up. He looked around for any pictures of himself, any of his mug shots, any of his wanted posters. There was nothing- not a single mention or reference to him. That was unusual- he had been lead to believe that his face was plastered over almost every surface of the ministry. Tonks had said she couldn't turn around without being reminded that they were on the lookout for the vicious, violent killer Sirius Black.

It was the first time he'd really been out after he had escaped Azkaban. Sirius didn't even know what time it was- was it late evening? Was it dawn? There was the threat of someone emerging from around any corner, and it felt dangerous. He liked the unknown and the bittersweetness of uncertainty. He didn't know where he was, he didn't know where the corridor would lead and he didn't know what he would find at the end, but he didn't care. The risk was what made it fun.

He could barely make out the corridor in the dark. He could see the wood cladding running along the bottom of the walls, and he read the shiny brass plaques fixed to the doors as he walked quietly past. None of them were recognisable- where were the names he had heard, jumbled in with the ministry reports on the Wizarding Wireless? Bones, Thicknesse, Scrimgeour, Umbridge- he saw not one.

The shiniest plaque fixed to the very last door caught his attention. It was the newest, that much was clear. The engraved letters lingered as if they hadn't quite settled into the plaque, and he could almost make out faint marks left behind from the name that had been magically removed.

The door handle rattled and Sirius panicked. Someone was working late, or maybe starting work early, desperately trying to finish some sort of report or organise some legal inquest. As soon as they opened the door they would be face to face with the most wanted man in the Wizarding World. Could Sirius curse them? He had fallen through the veil with his wand so he still had the use of that. Should he make himself invisible? He could, if he'd ever bothered to learn how to perform the charm properly. The lock clicked as the handle was turned and the door was pulled, swinging on its hinges into the room.

Instinctively, stupidly, desperately, Sirius did nothing. He dragged his aching, tired body further down the corridor and pressed himself back against the walls, trying to blend in with the dark surroundings. If he was silent enough, perhaps he would not be noticed. And if he was noticed… well, maybe he'd have to try hexing the stranger. It might look suspicious to the ministry officials, but it was less suspicious than meeting a gawping Azkaban escapee standing at the door's threshold.

He held his breath and did not dare to move an inch. He thought he'd got away with it, but a faintly recognisable voice silently bounced off the corridor walls.

"Who's there?" A wand was held out in warning.

He knew the voice. Logical, reasonable, vigilant, brave. But it sounded different; it sounded older. Carefully, Sirius stepped out from the shadows. He knew he would not be cursed, he knew he would not be sent back to Azkaban, he knew he would not be killed.

Oh, Hermione. Clever, clever Hermione. How Sirius was glad it was her.


	2. What's past is prologue

Chapter Two: What's past is prologue

"Hermione!" Sirius croaked, sighing in relief. "Where are the others? Is Harry safe?" He was not dead, not if Hermione was here too. Hermione squinted into the dark as Sirius approached closer. She tightened her grip on her wand and moved it upwards, towards his face. A dome of light shone in his face and burned his eyes. He heard Hermione gasp.

"No." She breathed. "Who are you?"

As Sirius looked at the face staring back at him, he wondered if he'd made a terrible mistake. It had sounded like Hermione Granger, the fourteen year old he'd first met in the Shrieking Shack who'd addressed him as Mr. Black and whose cat he had befriended. But she didn't look like how Sirius remembered. It could not be more than a couple of hours since he had ran past the open door of another room in the Department of Mysteries and fleeting looked in to see her crumpled on the floor, motionless.

Perhaps she was dead, too.

"It… it…" She stuttered. "It can't be you."

"Hermione, what happened to the prophecy? Where's everyone else?" His voice cracked in panic.

"What?"

"I fell through the veil."

"I know."

She flicked her wand at him and a strange rippling sensation passed over him. "There are no enchantments." Hermione whispered to herself.

What did she mean, _she knew?_ How could she know what had happened to him? He didn't remember her being there, she wasn't in the duel. She had been in another room. He looked at her face again. Sirius thought Hermione looked older. Her hair was tied back into a tidy bun, and she didn't look as fresh faced as he remembered. "How do you know I fell through the veil?" He asked her.

"Everyone knows what happened to you." She replied. She shook her head. "Only, you're not you, I mean, you _can't_ be you."

"Did you fall through the veil, too?" He took a step closer, and she raised her wand again. Her face was set, her lips forming a tight line. She shook her head, as if steeling herself for something.

"Who are you?" She asked firmly, her eyes narrowing in suspicion.

She must know him. She knew what had happened to him. He paused, wondering if he should admit such a thing. He was a wanted man, and if this was not Hermione, he would reveal his secret to a stranger. The seconds lengthened, the unanswered question hanging heavy in the air.

"I first met you in the Shrieking Shack." He began carefully. He gathered up his words as if they were precious silk. He had to make her realise it was really him. "You, and Ron, and Harry. You all thought I was a dog, and none of you realised."

"Snuffles." She replied quietly.

Sirius nodded. "There was your cat, Crookshanks, Peter, Remus. And," Sirius smiled as he remembered, laughing a little to himself. "You attacked a teacher."

Hermione's eyes widened. He was sure it was her, he didn't know why she looked different, but it was definitely her. And now, she knew it was really him. "Sirius Black." She murmured. He watched as the pieces clicked together in Hermione's mind, as she worked though the information. "We never saw a body." She whispered, more to herself than to Sirius. "Where do vanished things go?" She looked at him, shone the light from her wand into his face, and reached out to touch his arm. She flinched back when she met with solid mass. Real, living mass. "You're alive?"

He laughed shakily, feeling strangely relieved. "Am I?" His words floated through the darkened hall. She turned and opened the door to her office behind her and ushered him inside.

He took no notice of the decor in the office, nor did he see the photographs of smiling children waving at him from Hermione's desk. He slouched into the sturdy wooden chair closest to the door and leaned against the arm. According to Hermione, he was alive. But he wasn't sure why she had seemed so shocked by this revelation. Hermione looked a lot better than she had done the last time Sirius had seen her, lying crumpled on the ground in the Department of Mysteries. Was there a chance they were both dead, then, and neither of them realised?

"I fell through the veil." He repeated. That was all he really knew. "One minute, I was being cursed by Bellatrix, and the next, I'm in an empty room staring up at that veil, and there's no one there anymore. I took all these different shortcuts and somehow I arrived on this floor. I thought I might have been able to find everyone else but they've all seemed to have disappeared- except you, of course. Do you know where they are?"

Hermione carried on shaking her head to herself, her eyes wide and staring. "Sirius," She spoke slowly. "You fell through the veil sixteen years ago."

He hadn't been expecting that. Of all the things he had considered, this had not even been in the top ten. He stared again at Hermione. He just couldn't work it out. He had last seen her a few hours ago, but she hadn't seen him for sixteen years? He opened his mouth to speak, but only silence escaped.

"I've heard rumours." Hermione continued, almost eagerly. "But I never thought they were true. When I first started at the Ministry, I said we should have the Veil destroyed. But the Unspeakables said it wasn't possible. We just couldn't get rid of it. So I started to ask questions, and the rumour was that the veil was sort of like a reverse time turner. It wouldn't send people back…it would send them forward. It's been there since before they could remember. In fact, some people think the Ministry was built around it. There's been some really powerful spells cast on it, and it became unstable and dangerous. Of course, no one ever dared test it out. So it was kept hidden in the Department of Mysteries. Until," She paused, looking away from Sirius to the ground. "Well, until you found it." She finished quietly. Sirius didn't reply; he didn't know how to.

Hermione carried on. "I suppose they were right to say we couldn't destroy it. If we had, what would have happened to you? You wouldn't have arrived here- the veil wouldn't have existed. But why _now_?" She asked herself.

"Where is 'here'? Where am I?" He asked meekly, sounding like a lost child waking from a dream in an unfamiliar place.

"Well, I suppose to you, it's the future." Hermione smiled timidly at him. He still couldn't adjust to her- she just didn't look like she should have. Sirius wondered if he'd aged, too. Had falling through the veil instantly aged him somehow? Did he look sixteen years older? Or did he look just the same as before- once-handsome, tired, and haunted.

So he was in the future, and he should get used to it. At least he wasn't dead.

He had seen many strange things happen, and this was just the latest. He couldn't argue that it was impossible; flying on broomsticks and transforming into animals _should_ be impossible, so nothing in the magical world was really unthinkable. "Did you win? Did Harry beat Voldemort?"

She nodded.

"Where is he now?"

"He's an Auror, a really good one." Hermione told him, and Sirius beamed. "He's married, he's got three children. The oldest one's middle name is Sirius." Sirius was struck with pride, and he was glad that Harry was finally happy. Harry was doing alright for himself. And he'd done it all without Sirius's help. He couldn't wait to meet him again. It must be strange for Harry; it took twelve years for them to meet again, and now they'll be reunited once more after sixteen years. For Sirius, of course, it was merely a few hours ago since he last saw his Godson.

So Sirius was alive, and there seemed so much to catch up on. Sixteen years, in fact. Why was he wasting time here then?! Eagerly, Sirius asked, "Where does he live? Has he got a spare room?"

"I don't think that's a good idea, Sirius. You can't just turn up at his house. Legally, you're dead." Hermione spoke urgently. "Sirius, please, don't go searching for anyone. Not until we've worked out what to do. Not even in animagus form- they'll recognise you."

His hopes fell. As quickly as they had risen they were dashed. He wouldn't be allowed to see his Godson. "But he'd understand?" He argued. "You understand!"

Hermione replied cautiously. "Harry's been through a lot. And I don't know what he would think if you arrived on his doorstep, alive and well and ready to live in his spare room. He might start to think that _other _people could come back, too."

Sirius nodded solemnly. He supposed it was for the best- even if he didn't think it was. He felt like he was trapped in Grimmauld Place again, desperate to help Harry but forbidden from it. It was always 'for the best'.

"What am I supposed to do, then?" He had no friends, no family, nowhere to go.

"You need to go somewhere safe where no one will recognise you. For the time being, at least."

"Until we find out a way to sort all this out?" He asked hopefully. He didn't like where he was – he wanted to go back. Hermione scribbled a note onto a piece of parchment and opened the stained-glass window behind her. A tawny coloured owl swooped down from one of the windows high above and took the letter from her, soaring off to deliver it to its recipient.

"What am I going to do?"

"I've just owled Professor McGonagall. I've told her it's important, and to come straight away. We need to keep you safe. We'll send you to the safest place I can think of."


	3. The spirits of the dead may walk again

Chapter Three: The spirits of the dead may walk again

Dawn had barely broken when the sound of an owl eagerly tapping on her window had woken her. Minerva McGonagall opened the casement and the owl delivered a curious letter from Hermione Granger- or rather Weasley, as she had to keep reminding herself- before soaring out again across the pink and gold sky. She knew she had to go at once to Hermione's aid; the letter had seemed urgent, written in a clipped, rushed script, and its contents had intrigued her. She had hurried to get ready and flooed directly to the Atrium of the Ministry of Magic. As she passed through and headed to the lifts she saw only the night watchman, about to be relieved of his shift, and a couple of Ministry workers, starting early just like Hermione to get a head start on their work. She had nodded politely and offered a quiet 'Good Morning' as they passed, and received bleary-eyed greetings in return.

She'd found her way through the tunnelled corridors of the Ministry easily to find Hermione's office. She had stood with baited breath in front of the door before knocking; she still wasn't sure what she would find behind it. Only now did it occur to her that it might be some sort of trick, some way to lure her away from Hogwarts and to the Ministry. It certainly couldn't be true, could it? The letter had been succinct and brief- but the message had been clear.

The door opened ajar. "Hermione? Your note- is it true?" She asked, almost reluctant to hear the answer. Hermione nodded solemnly and opened the door further to allow Professor McGonagall to pass over the threshold.

Sitting slouched in a wooden chair, leaning languidly against the arm, was Sirius Black. He hadn't changed at all; his face was still deathly pale, his black hair still hung to his shoulders, his eyes still held that haunted look. He held himself like he had always done, with the grace of an aristocrat and the arrogance of a rebel. He even still had that same sad, melancholic air.

She hadn't been able to say anything, she just didn't know where to start. Why was he here? Was it real? Where had he been for the past sixteen years? _Was it really him?_

They explained what had happened, and somehow, it _had_ seemed plausible. Hermione was right, there had been no corpse, they had no proof he_ had_ died. And if time-turners could send people back in time, albeit just a few hours, why couldn't they send them _forward_ in time? Time-travel was dangerous and risky- which is precisely the reason the veil had been kept hidden and its secrets had never been revealed. And what was it Sybill Trelawney had always said? '_Many witches and wizards are unable to penetrate the veiled mysteries of the future'. _Maybe, for once, she had known what she was talking many people understood time travel, so who's to say Sirius's story wasn't true?

There was a small part of her that told her it was ridiculous, impossible, and it was some sort of cruel trick. But she wasn't listening to it. Hermione had assured her there were no disfigurement enchantments and no use of polyjuice potion, and she had checked that it was Sirius, it was definitely, certainly Sirius. So if Hermione believed it, she would believe it too.

"Well, Black, you have amazed me yet again." McGonagall sighed, brandishing her hands at him in exasperation. "I suppose we should have expected it. You couldn't even manage to stay in a detention for longer than twenty minutes, how were you ever going to stay _dead?!_" She smiled fondly at him. She wasn't angry; not in the least. She was glad. She was glad that Sirius was back.

But what were they to do with him?

"I suppose Hermione is right." Professor McGonagall finally admitted, after the three had exhaustively discussed their options. "Hogwarts is the safest place."

He certainly couldn't stay at the Ministry- that would be ridiculous. Returning to Grimmauld Place, Hermione told him, was not an option either, but she wouldn't divulge as to the reason why. Staying with Hermione was also impractical, as she had two young children now and Ron would almost certainly let something slip. They wanted as few people to know about it as possible so going to any friends' houses, like Mr and Mrs Weasley's, was also out of the equation. And, as Hermione reiterated once more, he was certainly not to stay with Harry.

He would have to stay at Hogwarts. It was the only place that he wouldn't be recognised- even the oldest students would have only been one or two years old when he fell through the veil, and none of them would remember his Azkaban breakout and the ensuing manhunt that was plastered across The Daily Prophet for almost a year.

"I'm not going to Hogwarts if I have to be Filch's apprentice." Sirius pulled a face.

"Don't be ridiculous Black!" Professor McGonagall waved her hand dismissively. "If I did that I'd never hear the end of it. From _either_ of you."

"I think I'd rather go back to Azkaban."

"Sirius!" She berated.

"Except I really would have committed a murder this time. Filch would teach me all his cleaning secrets and then I'd use them to clean up the crime scene." An evil grin crossed his face.

"I have a suggestion." Hermione quickly piped up. "What if… what if Sirius taught at the school?" Sirius's smile swiftly fell.

Hermione continued. "I've heard that Professor Ardeal is leaving at the end of the term to follow a vampire coven in Transylvania."

Professor McGonagall hummed in agreement. "The curse has long been lifted, but we _still_ can't get people to stay."

"The curse? Was that real? I thought it was just a rumour James and I started." Sirius interrupted.

"Perhaps Sirius could take his place."

Professor McGonagall considered Hermione's suggestion carefully, most likely running through every possible outcome. She sighed. "I can't hire a… a… well, what are you, Black? You're not a convict anymore, your name was cleared. You are, however, legally dead… what would Albus say- hiring a dead man to teach the students."

"Oh, he hired far worse." Sirius retorted. A fraud, a werewolf, a death eater, Voldemort's parasite.

"Sirius is right. The students could do a lot worse. He's a talented wizard, and you were the top of all your classes at Hogwarts, weren't you?" Hermione said.

Perhaps it was all the talk of the impossible- Sirius Black was alive and in the future- that made Professor McGonagall say what she did next. "It is a possibility. Sirius, I am as surprised as you are that I am about to say this. Will you teach Defence Against the Dark Arts at Hogwarts?"

Sirius stared at her as if she had a house-elf dancing on her head. "I can believe I'm still alive. I can believe I'm in the future. But isn't the thought of me becoming a teacher stretching the imagination just a little bit too far?!"

Hermione and McGonagall argued their case convincingly, and finally Sirius acquiesced- on one condition. "Just until we work out how I can get back?"

Hermione began to fidget nervously. "If we send you back through the veil, you never come out again."

Professor McGonagall spoke next. "You must understand the dangers. If you're seen, if anyone recognises you, you'll be sent back to Azkaban. The Wizarding world thinks you're dead, and they'll think you've used dark magic to return. No spell can reawaken the dead, you know that. I'm sorry, Sirius. You cannot leave Hogwarts. Not for now, at least."

* * *

><p><em>The basement kitchen was dark and cold. A heavy weight seemed to suffocate the roo<em>_m. Sirius hadn't bothered to open any windows, light any of the lamps or even cast any heating charms. Albus Dumbledore peered over his half-moon spectacles at Sirius's thin, almost emaciated figure hunched into a wooden kitchen chair. A wave of shame flooded over Sirius, embarrassed that his former headmaster should see what he had become._

_"I appreciate the use of Grimmauld Place as the headquarters for the reformed order." Dumbledore said quietly. Sirius simply grunted in response. He hated being back here, and he couldn't wait to leave._

_"Sirius, I don't know what to tell you." Dumbledore had sighed. "You must understand the dangers. If you're seen, you'll be sent back to Azkaban and you'll never come out again. I'm sorry, Sirius. You cannot leave Grimmauld Place. You're still not free."_

* * *

><p>Sirius had escaped incarceration in Azkaban, where no one visited and no one left, only to be imprisoned in his family home, where hardly anyone visited and Sirius never left, and now it looked like he would be confined in the future, where definitely no one would visit because no one knew he was even alive. He was notorious in every sense of the word, and once again he found himself trapped.<p>

They outlined the rules for Sirius once again. He would be given quarters at Hogwarts to stay in, and a house-elf would be sent to get him anything he might require. After careful persuasion from Hermione, Professor McGonagall admitted that he _would _be allowed to leave during the day, as realistically no one would expect to see a dead ex-convict wandering the streets of Hogsmeade, so no one would really think it was him. But he was not to draw attention to himself and he was to stay out of sight from anyone who knew him. He was not to go out looking for them, even if he used any sort of disfigurement charm or potion, and with a meaningful look from Hermione, he knew this meant in animagus form, too.

It didn't sound like an appealing offer, and he wondered if he was better off going back to find the veil and trying to fall back through- and ending up wherever that would lead him. Sirius never thought he would be so reluctant to return to Hogwarts, but Hogwarts without the Marauders didn't seem much fun. But their arguments made sense, and there was not much else for him to do. He would become his own worst enemy; a teacher.


	4. Seen better days

Chapter Four: Seen better days

Nestled deep in the outskirts between Hogsmeade and Dovetown was The Ten-Foot Troll. The Ten-Foot Troll was a pub far, far worse than The Hog's Head, but it was the only place Sirius thought he might not be recognised. Between the thieves, the fiends and the outcasts no one would look twice at a dead Azkaban deserter. It was where the lowest rungs of Wizarding society loitered, and apparently, Sirius now fell into that category. The air in the dingy hovel was thick with smoke and soot, and the sounds of glasses clinking on wooden table tops mingled with the drawing of chairs and the choked coughs of miserable souls intent on drinking away their troubles. A dull amber glow from the scarce candles suffocated the room, barely reaching the corners. Men gathered in the shrouded dark to discuss dishonest plans.

He'd spent the majority of his time since falling through the veil here. The last thing he remembered, before running off to the Ministry, falling through the veil and getting himself stuck in the future, was Grimmauld Place. It had been an evening like every other. He and Moony had sat around the familiar wooden kitchen table, laughing at old jokes and reminiscing about old times. They were joined throughout the evening by the rest of the order, and they'd join in with the jokes and the tales. They were not making new memories, rather relishing in the old ones. There had been so many evenings like it, yet Sirius had treasured every one. Not because he had a sense of foreboding that there wouldn't be many or it wouldn't last, but because he had known the desperate despair of loneliness and the aching hope that the sun would stop rising. To know that tomorrow would come and to be glad when it did, and to know that his friends were as happy to see him as he was them, had made Sirius thankful, for the first time in a long time, that he was still alive.

How strange that for Sirius it was still so fresh in his mind since it had happened such a short time before, yet for everyone else it would be a long forgotten memory from sixteen years ago.

He wondered if it was still the same. Did they still sit around the table? Did they still laugh at the same old jokes? Did they speak of Sirius like they had the rest of the Order? Did they point at him in the picture and remember him then? _'Original order of the Phoenix. The man with the dark hair stood at the back, that's Sirius Black. He's copped it, dozy sod fell backwards through a curtain and disappeared.'_ Perhaps they'd take a minute in silence to remember that night, then they'd continue on to the next person. A face in a photo with a miserable end.

Now, Sirius sat alone at a battered table in a rundown pub, furthest away from the door and staring into the empty abyss of his Firewhisky glass. He could hear low, grumbled voices float through the air, and caught stray, throwaway lines from the different conversations.

_"…100 hooky cauldrons made from plastic…"_

_"…Gregori was almost noticed, but he used a disfigurement charm…"_

_"…no-one ever guards the back entrance, it would be easy to charm the lock…"_

_"Goyle needs to be more careful. He'll be sent back if he's caught…"_

_"…Greyback's coming out soon, he's done his time in Azkaban..." _This caught his attention. Both the mention of his former home and the only name he'd recognised all evening, and it automatically reminded him of Moony.

He thought of his friends. His remaining friends, at least. He hadn't been told anything except what Hermione had let slip at their first meeting. His only friends were house-elves now, and they didn't know who the old Order of the Phoenix were, let alone what had happened to them. Hermione stopped by occasionally, and McGonagall would take time out of her busy preparations for the new school year to check on Sirius, but any time he tried asking, the subject would always be changed, until he learned to just stop asking.

So he imagined what he'd missed. Moony would be an old man by now. Even older than usual. His age would have finally caught up with his personality. Merlin, Sirius should be pushing fifty! Tonks, his little cousin Tonks, he'd missed another huge chunk of her life. What would be left of Mad-Eye? There had hardly been anything of him left to curse off! Kingsley, he knew from glancing at the Daily Prophet one morning, was now the Minister for Magic, and Sirius hoped more than anything that it meant the Ministry was no longer so corrupted. If Hermione worked there, it mustn't be so bad.

Then, of course, there was the Weasleys. Molly would probably be just the same, perhaps more overbearing, and poor old Arthur would be just as put-upon. There'd most likely be a whole new batch of younger Weasleys'. He wondered if Bill and Fleur had got together- he knew that Bill had been keen on that idea. In fact, Sirius had given him a few tips.

He didn't expect Dumbledore to still be here. Sirius was sure that Hermione would have asked his help rather than McGonagall. But then again, perhaps he'd had enough of teaching and decided to retire gracefully in a handsome cottage in a cosy hillside. That didn't really seem like something Dumbledore would do, somehow.

And then, what about Harry? Hermione had said that he was married, with three children of his own! The boy's done alright. It was probably a good job that Sirius hadn't been around, who knows what he might have got into with Sirius's influence.

But was there much point in wondering what they were doing now? Sirius didn't know when, or if, he would get to see any of them again. He'd asked more than once why he couldn't see Harry, and the answer was always a variation of the same theme. They didn't know how he would react. What would Harry think? Harry had been through far worse than anyone could imagine and was older and wiser than they knew. Hermione's concern was that Harry would worry that other people could come back, too. If Sirius could reappear one morning when everyone had thought he was dead- was it so impossible Harry's parents couldn't do the same? What about Voldemort?

Sirius's friends had kept him going after Azkaban, and shone through his dark depression like stars in the night sky. He was named for a star, he'd lived in the depths of the heavens, and now he would have to learn to look at an empty sky. It was this melancholy hopelessness, the despair, and the loneliness that had driven him to The Ten-Foot Troll.

He'd been told to spend his advance on his first Hogwarts paycheque on 'required equipment'. McGonagall had recommended text books, a set of scholar's robes, quills, parchment and teaching aids. Sirius had chosen firewhisky and mead. It was his solace. It was the only thing that made sense and if he drank enough it kept the demons at bay.

One more wouldn't hurt. One more before the journey home. One more for Prongs. One more so he wouldn't feel lonely. He used every excuse he could think of, but he couldn't change the reality. One more wouldn't help anything.

At times he would apparate from outside the Hogwarts gates into a completely unknown town in the middle of nowhere. Almost always, they were muggle towns, with a mere handful of little brick houses surrounded with battered wooden fences, bird tables and squat bushes. There were no paths or roads, just dirt tracks that led from one lonely village to another, and because he had nothing else to do, he would transform into his animagus form and run as fast as he could. He'd thought about running from village to village, from town to city, and from one country to another. He could run as fast and as far as he could, and live in cliff sides or caves or beneath great trees. He had done it before, and he thought about doing it again. But really, was Hogwarts so bad that he would be willing to trade it all for scavenged food and the damp undergrowth?

There was no need to be in his animagus form in the muggle towns. There was no one, really, who would recognise him, and muggles certainly wouldn't be looking for him. But it was like a disguise, he was hidden in plain sight, and he didn't have to worry about what might be waiting for him around the next bend. In his animagus form he felt like he had been freed from imaginary shackles he was always forced to wear.

He could have gone to live in the Muggle world, turned his back on wizardfolk and lived his new future without the worry of being recognised, but he had spent his whole life surrounded by magic, and every floating object, every pointed hat and every impossible thing was his home.

So he preferred the Ten-Foot Troll, despite its questionable clientele. He preferred being surrounded by magic and wonder. Strangers would come and go, yet still Sirius would sit alone at the table furthest from the door. He was generally avoided by the bar's other patrons. Not because they recognised him, but because even they knew that a man drinking alone did not want to be disturbed.

One evening, when the tepid afternoon sun had set without Sirius's notice, a cloaked stranger turned stiffly in his chair to look at Sirius staring into the golden depths of his firewhisky. Dark cloaks, heavy disguises or shrouded hoods were not unusual in the Ten-Foot Troll- not many of the pub's regulars wanted to be recognised.

"What's wrong with you? You look like you've got a date with the Dark Lord." The figure grunted.

Sirius smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. I'm alone in a future I don't understand, I can't see my friends, I don't have a home anymore, he thought. "I'm about to become a teacher." He said instead.

The stranger at the next table laughed, a gravelly, unfamiliar sound, as if it was the first time he had laughed in a while and he had almost forgotten how to do it properly. "A fate worse than Azkaban." He joked.

"I should know." Sirius retorted, taking another swig of his drink.

Sirius could feel the stranger's eyes watching him, but he didn't turn to look. "The ones that go in don't usually come out." The stranger spoke slowly, a challenging tone to his voice. "Perhaps they should all stick together." Sirius didn't reply.

The dirge of chatter that had died when Sirius had spoken seemed to relight as the strangers nearby who had been eavesdropping began to whisper about him, the strange, miserable man by himself, the one who says he's been to Azkaban and lived to tell the tale. No one ever made an effort to speak to Sirius again.

Not long ago, he hadn't been able to leave his house for all the people who were hunting him. Now he was the Wizarding World's most unwanted.

* * *

><p><em>Fun fact: there's a quote in here that's modified from one in Prisoner of Azkaban (p.298-ish) <em>_"Wormtail had reappeared this evening when everyone had thought he was dead- was it so impossible his father had done the same?". Which is sort-of why I imagine Harry might think the same if Sirius reappeared... perhaps coming back from the dead is just a Marauders thing in which case I'm all for the other two returning as well (but that's for another story)!_

_P.S. sorry about how miserable this is, the next chapter is much, much more cheerful I promise! (there's a marauders flashback yaay)_


	5. A soul remembering my good friends

Chapter Five: A soul remembering my good friends

The arrival of September 1st had both dragged by and come far too soon. It was the date Sirius had almost dreaded, but his three-month stupor had been so long and dreary that he had welcomed the break from the monotony that came in the form of the new school term.

It would certainly be nice to have some company in the old, lofty castle. Walking the Hogwarts hallways without any other children was an unnerving and unusual experience. When he did manage to drag himself away from the Ten-Foot Troll, he had spent his time traipsing the school and reacquainting himself with its staircases and its secrets. Not much had changed considering that McGonagall told him that it had been almost destroyed in the final battle against Voldemort. That was all he had been told; that there had been a battle between the good and the evil, and Voldemort had been killed here. She said there were plenty of books in the library he could read if he was interested in finding out more but he was yet to take up her offer.

He had been dismayed to find that one of the seven passageways out of Hogwarts had caved in, but Myrtle still haunted her bathroom and the house-elves still scurried about in the kitchens in the basement so all was not so unfamiliar. It bought back an awful lot of memories, too. It was not so long ago- to Sirius, at least- that he had sat in Dumbledore's office with Harry after the Triwizard Tournament, and before that when he had traversed the castle in search of Pettigrew and had to keep hidden. It was nice to walk through the school as a free man. Almost free, at least.

And it was as an almost free man that he had reluctantly taken his position at the teacher's table at the top of the hall for the Welcome Feast. He was stationed directly on the left of Professor McGonagall, and he felt distinctly like a naughty child being kept in line. The Sorting itself was remarkably dull. Sirius watched as nervous child after nervous child approached the stool, shaking so much that Sirius thought they were about to collapse. He sneered at every student sorted into Slytherin and every single one seemed to have a pompous attitude and a nose that stuck up into the air. He found himself alleviating the boredom by guessing which house the child would be sorted into before the hat announced it. He found that he could easily guess the Slytherins, the Hufflepuffs and the Ravenclaws, but there wasn't a single child he guessed right about Gryffindor.

* * *

><p><em>His name was the third to be called. <em>

_"Black, Sirius."_

_When the first years had been led into the Great Hall, he'd looked around to see his cousin Narcissa glaring at him from the Slytherin table, and further down, seventh year Andromeda Black was looking everywhere except at her scared little cousin- she didn't want to be associated with yet another Black. Sirius could feel himself shaking, waiting in line to decide whether he would follow his family into Slytherin or follow his heart into Gryffindor. A friendly smile from a family member would have calmed his nerves, but that was not something members of the noble and most ancient house of Black did. Smiling was hideous and puerile- they favoured the condescending scowl. How he hated the lot._

_He took a steadying breath. Before he walked to the stool, however, he turned to the boy standing beside him, with sandy brown hair and a terribly thin frame._

_"Listen, if I'm sorted into Slytherin, will you promise to throw me into the forbidden forest and let the werewolves take care of me?" Sirius laughed timidly, but the boy looked at him with wide, terrified eyes and stepped back. Perhaps he hadn't heard the rumours about the werewolves in the forest yet. "Promise?" Sirius prompted, holding out his hand. The boy duly nodded, managing a small smile, and finally returned the handshake._

* * *

><p><em>He'd done it. He was shocked to see Andromeda's earnest smile shining at him from across the hall, hidden amongst the disbelieving Slytherins, and it gave him courage. In the midst of whispered exclamations and shocked gasps, he proudly took his place upon the Gryffindor table- the first Black to ever do so. <em>

_His parents would be horrified, certainly, but they'd only find out if Narcissa wrote home and told his family about it. Sirius wasn't going to bother. No one had believed that he would actually ask to be put in Gryffindor. For now, he would sit amongst the mixture of pure-bloods, muggleborns and whoever else was deemed fit to grace the table, and he would await his parents' Howler with the courage and bravery that had gained him his place in Gryffindor. He looked around the table at the sea of red and gold and watched the cheery faces of his new housemates._

_The next boy to be sorted into Gryffindor sat directly next to Sirius on the bench, in the space he had left for Lily Evans before she refused to sit beside him. It was the thin boy with the sandy hair, wearing the biggest smile Sirius had ever seen, and it was contagious, for Sirius starting smiling too._

_"I won't need you to throw me to the werewolves now, I'm a Gryffindor!" Sirius told him happily. _

_"That wouldn't have been very sensible anyway," The boy replied, with a mock serious tone. "It isn't even full moon!"_

_Sirius grinned back at him. "I'm Sirius." He announced._

_The boy opened his mouth to reply, but a flurry of black robes swirled across the bench on the other side of the table. From beneath a mass of black, messy hair, two eyes looked out behind a pair of circular glasses._

_"Gryffindor, lads!" James Potter seemed like he could hardly contain his excitement. "Blimey, what will your family say?" He nodded at Sirius, who shrugged in reply. He couldn't care less. "I knew you seemed alright!" James told him. James looked along the table from Sirius to Lily Evans, her back turned towards them and sitting with her arms crossed, and then he looked at the boy between them. _

_"This is Remus." Sirius told James, remembering the boy's name from when he was called forward to be sorted. "He's alright, too." Sirius couldn't stop smiling; he'd made it to Hogwarts, he wasn't in Slytherin, and he'd already made friends._

* * *

><p>Finally the sorting ended and Sirius could feel his stomach starting to growl. Of the few things he had been looking forward to, the feast was the main one. Sure, the house-elves had been cooking his meals for him since he arrived here, but it just wasn't the same as having the choice of all those delicious looking dishes laid out all across the table. He eagerly picked up his knife and fork, but set them quickly down again and groaned when McGonagall raised from her seat.<p>

"A few announcements before we begin the feast. A notice for the new students, anyone found out of their common rooms after ten o'clock will be given detention. Some of the older students would do to remember this, too. Mr Filch has requested that no broomsticks are to be bought inside the castle and all shoes should be changed or cleaned before coming back in after Quidditch practices. I would also like to take this opportunity to welcome two new members of staff. Mr Filch's nephew will be joining us as his uncle's new assistant." Hushed whispers spread around the hall as the children looked about in confusion. McGonagall looked at Sirius quickly and repressed a smile. It turns out Sirius's throwaway comment had made McGonagall think that perhaps the old, decrepit caretaker really did need someone to train for when he'd had enough of cleaning up magic mistakes, scrubbing away remnants of backfired curses and grumbling about the sheer number of students traipsing through the school. But the man stooped beside Argus Filch by the doorway looked just as miserable as Filch himself. He was hunched in a great black travelling cloak pulled right up over his head, but Sirius could see his grizzly eyes peering out from beneath the hood as he glared at the children in the hall. Sirius thought he might have fun with Filch's assistant. If the Marauders were there, they certainly would have been thinking about the pranks they could pull on him, and thinking about that cheered Sirius up a bit.

Professor McGonagall continued. "And finally, Professor Boardman has graciously accepted the position as our new Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor." She motioned beside her, and Sirius held his hand up at the hall of students in a half-hearted wave. "Good luck, Professor, and I'm sure both our new staff members will be made to feel most welcome. Now, do tuck in." As she sat back down, the tables began to fill up with tray upon tray of any kind of food they could think of.

They had decided that Professor Boardman would be Sirius's alias. Whilst none of the students would recognise him, they might recognise the name, and Black was far too notorious anyway. And it certainly wouldn't hurt if the other teachers didn't know who he really was, either. He'd chosen Stubby Boardman, the lead singer of The Hobgoblins and Sirius's supposed disguise after breaking out of Azkaban (according to The Quibbler, at least). It was funny- he remembered Kingsley bringing the magazine one evening to Grimmauld Place and Sirius, Remus and Tonks had laughed at it long into the night adding more fuel to the fire by creating the secret life of Sirius's supposed alias. They'd fabricated a complete tragic childhood, troubled early days at Hogwarts, an epiphany part way through fifth year that lead to Stubby's soaring rise to- and subsequent fall from- fame. It was one of the only times Sirius remembered being completely content and happy at Grimmauld Place. He'd hoped that the reintroduction of Stubby Boardman, as the constant reminder of how happy he had been that evening in Grimmauld Place, would raise his spirits. Merlin knew he needed it.


	6. To mourn a mischief that is past

Chapter Six: To mourn a mischief that is past and gone

It was just before the dessert course arrived on the tables when Professor McGonagall propositioned Sirius.

"The Gryffindors are without a Head of House this year." She told him. He blinked slowly and set his goblet carefully on the table, turning to look at the headmistress. She was watching the Gryffindor table wistfully.

"You said Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher. That was all."

"I'm not asking you to do it! Merlin, I couldn't think of a worse idea." She dismissed, to which Sirius felt a little affronted. He thought he'd make a good head of house! "For the time being," McGonagall continued, "I am fulfilling some of those duties. Professor Ardeal was the Gryffindor head, and since he's left no one else would be suitable. For starters, none of them know where the common room is! None of our other colleagues were in Gryffindor at school. Gryffindors all seem to head into jobs that involve risking one's life. I believe the Auror department in the Ministry is overrun with them." She sighed heavily. "I could show them the common room, of course, but it just wouldn't feel right if the head of Gryffindor had been in another house."

"This certainly sounds like you're asking me to become head of Gryffindor." Sirius replied. He looked at the children below. The red and gold of the Gryffindor crest sparkled against the black robes. The Gryffindor table was the rowdiest, the loudest, and the most fun- one boy even had bright blue hair.

"Perhaps you could assist me a little." Professor McGonagall asked carefully. "I have a lot to do and not always enough time to do it. There is more involved in running the school than you would expect. So would you keep an eye on the Gryffindors? That's all I ask. Just keep them all in line- you know better than anyone that's what they need."

He laughed quietly to himself, but nodded in agreement. He thought he could manage that, at least.

All the talk at dinner of Gryffindors and the common room had made Sirius curious. He hadn't really thought about visiting it again. He just didn't think it would be the same without any of his friends there. But there were memories there, certainly, hidden deep within every brick and every red and gold tapestry. The singe marks hidden beneath the carefully placed rugs, the crack along the window to the left of the fireplace, the trick step at the very top of the boys' staircase. It had been an ulterior motive driving Sirius to his destination that evening, and he found himself rounding the staircase to the seventh floor, feeling something pulling him desperately towards the cosy common room. Towards home.

Sirius wouldn't get in to the common room without a password. Not this time. He wondered who the Gryffindor prefect would be, and whether he could find a way to get the password from him. When Remus had been a Prefect, he'd somehow managed to get the Fat Lady to set the password to rude words, and James and Sirius had returned one evening to find Remus hidden around a corner, laughing at the tiny first years cowering outside, too terrified to utter the password. It had been a whole evening's worth of enjoyable entertainment- until Lily came along, of course.

He walked up to the portrait, and The Fat Lady screamed. "It's you!" She looked about, trying to find another painting she could run to, "It's you! You're Siri…"

"Stubby Boardman." He corrected, his eyes twinkling challengingly. The Fat Lady squinted out of the painting at the man stood in front of her, the one she was sure had attacked her all those years ago trying to break into Gryffindor tower. But the rumours from the portraits in the Headmistress's office had said that he had died a long time ago, so of course, it couldn't be him. It certainly looked like him, though…

"You've been restored?" Sirius noted, his tone smothered with slick charm.

The Fat Lady blushed. "I've only been relined, dear, after the battle of course. It wreaked havoc on my canvas. But that was years ago now."

"It makes you look younger."

She began to laugh quickly, batting her hands at him. "Oh, you're just flattering me!"

Despite Sirius's best efforts, she would not let him into Gryffindor Tower without the password, and he thought it was for the best, really. The common room certainly wouldn't be the same. He didn't know how much damage the castle had suffered during the battle, but even if Gryffindor Tower had been unharmed, it had been thirty years since he had been a student at Hogwarts, and a boarder in that dormitory. He very much doubted it would still be the same. The squashy armchairs, the rich coloured furnishings, the heavy drapes, and the roaring fire would have to continue to be only part of his memories.

"It was certainly worth a try, wasn't it?" He asked the Fat Lady, his eyes glittering. She smiled indulgently at him, and he reluctantly turned to head back to his own quarters.

He hadn't really been in this area of the castle since he had returned. He'd been in the castle three months, but he hadn't been through the main corridors of the school much. He preferred the back staircases and narrow passageways. It seemed more secluded somehow, and he found the castle didn't feel as lonely. Soon he wouldn't be able to move for all the hustle and bustle of a school full of excited children.

He approached the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom from the direction opposite to the one he was used to. Looking left along the corridor, he remembered there was a dead end around the opposite corner, with an alcove in the wall that had been perfect for planning pranks without the risk of eavesdroppers. He walked to the end of the corridor, for old time's sake, really. Indulging a masochistic longing to be reunited with the ghosts of his friends. He smiled when he saw it was still there. That alcove had been their hideout; they'd have secret plotting sessions, tell scary stories and practise forbidden charms. Behind him, he heard scuffling and clanging, and turned to see Filch and his new assistant, who was being shown around the school, snoop around the corner, suspicious, with Filch carrying a rusty metal mop bucket.

* * *

><p><em>Sirius lazed against the wall in the alcove, stretching his legs in front of him. Beside him, Remus sat with his arms crossed looking deep in thought, whilst James and Peter stood in front of them.<em>

_It was the first weekend of Hogsmeade trips for anyone in third year or above. Sirius and James, lowly second years, had taken it as a personal affront that they should not be allowed to visit when they were clearly the most grown up in their year. Together in their secret alcove, the boys were racking their brains for a way to get to Hogsmeade. Finally, they thought they had an idea. _

_"A secret passageway! There must be a secret way out. There always is in these old places." James said, motioning around himself excitedly. At the mention of a secret passageway, Remus shuffled uncomfortably. _

_Sirius narrowed his eyes at him, suspicious. "You know where it is!" _

_"What?" Remus tried to ask, but Sirius could see straight through him. He looked at Remus expectantly as he sighed heavily. "I think there's one on the third floor but there's a witch statue on top of it so we'll never be able to move it even if we use magic because it'll be far too heavy."_

_James broke out into an ear-slitting grin, and waved his hand dismissively. "We'll find a way!" He announced confidently. __"Come on, let's find out!"_

_But Peter was hesitant. "It's against the rules. Imagine the detentions!" _

_"Breaking the rules isn't wrong!" Sirius replied with mock innocence._

_A wry smile crossed Remus's face. "What's wrong is getting caught."_

_They were about to get up and leave, but a scuffling and clanging coming from behind made them stop. James and Peter turned and they all looked to the source of the noise, with an unintentional guilty look on their faces. Filch snooped around the corner, suspicious, carrying a metal mop bucket._

_He grimaced, and grunted snottily. "What are you four doing here?"_

_"We go to school here." Sirius smartly replied. "We live here, we have lessons, we learn how to use magic. They teach us all sorts. Then at the end of the year, we have an exam…"_

_"Alright, alright. Back chat was punishable in the good old days." Filch snarled gleefully. "Why aren't you in your common room?" He pointed a warty finger at them suspiciously, trying to disguise his excitement at the possibility of having finally caught the four little buggers red-handed._

_James pushed his glasses further up the bridge of his nose. "You know, Mr Filch, we don't have to spend all our time in our common room."_

_He eyed them suspiciously. "I don't like it. You four are always sneaking around after dark, scurrying through all these passageways, marauding about the castle as if you own the place." _

_James smiled fondly. "Oh, don't you worry about us, Mr Filch." James walked Filch down the corridor and away from their secret corner. "Now, off you go. I think I heard Peeves floating about upstairs somewhere." _

_Sirius bit his tongue to stop himself from laughing, as Filch looked at James in astonishment, his mouth opening and closing like a startled flobberworm. He seemed to have lost the ability to talk. Peter was watching hungrily, looking as though he might wet himself with excitement. _

_"You four are up to something, I know it. And I'll find out what." Filch reluctantly stalked off around the corner, grumbling to himself. _

_There was something about the image of them sneaking around the castle that Filch had conjured up that Sirius liked. "We can't keep being called 'you four'." He said._

_James was quick to reply. He had apparently been thinking the same thing. "I agree. I think our reputation can only be sealed with a proper nickname that will be whispered through Hogwarts for years to come."_

_"Well, we do spend most of our time 'marauding about the place', as Filch said." _

_"I rather like the image of the four of us swaggering down the draughty corridors and through the lofty halls, being followed by starry-eyed first years." James flourished his hand melodramatically. "The Marauders." He announced. The three second-years sniggered at the new nickname they'd given themselves, but Remus remained stony faced. "You can't credit me for the name, though."_

_"Filch can claim that dubious honour." Added Sirius. "I bet he'll be delighted."_

_Remus frowned, unconvinced. "A group of trouble makers gain attention, but a group with a name and a reputation are asking for it. And I don't know about you, but I don't really want to draw attention to myself."_

_"No, I understand." Sirius replied playfully. "I hate drawing attention to myself."_

_ James sighed theatrically, throwing a hand against his forehead. "And I would hate to be the centre of attention, wouldn't you?" _

_Remus, used to their teasing, rolled his eyes. "Oh, shove off, you two."_

* * *

><p>It wasn't until Sirius was alone in his quarters that he realised how much his knees were shaking. It was Saturday today, which meant that in two days it would be his first day of teaching Defence against the Dark Arts, and he was as nervous as the first years.<p>

* * *

><p><em><strong>A.N:<strong> What do you think about the flashbacks? I hadn't planned including many to begin with and I realise they're a bit non-sequitur (is that the right word? I'm not sure) to the actual story but I enjoyed writing them too much and got a bit carried away! (I've written several in a couple of other chapters. Oops.) I hope no one minds their addition but I think they're quite cute, and since I'm not sure where this story is actually going to go its something to write about at least (haha!) Sorry if anyone hates them :(_


	7. Too old to learn

Chapter Seven: Too old to learn

Somehow Sirius had been graced with no timetabled lessons to teach on a Monday morning, for which he was grateful. He tried to reason with himself that it was just the way the school's timetable fell, but he suspected that it was more likely that McGonagall remembered all too well Sirius's inability to surface any time before noon the day after the weekend. His Monday would start at lunchtime, and he never managed to make it to Monday morning lessons. Sirius hadn't even been aware that there was a class on the history of magic until it had been listed as an option for his O.W.L exams.

* * *

><p><em>The common room was crowded and far too warm. Sirius sat at the table, staring at the form in front of him listing his O.W.L. options. He'd had weeks to complete it, and now he had been warned by McGonagall in no uncertain terms that if he didn't get it done soon she would have to choose for him. Remus stubbornly refused to tell him what he had chosen in case Sirius picked the same. James had told him the only subject Sirius would actually be interested in would be Sirius-ology, but he'd been dismayed to find it wasn't an option.<em>

_He looked down the list of subjects. "James, what's 'History of Magic' about?"_

_James, who had been engrossed in his latest copy of Quidditch Quarterly, looked up. "Are you joking, Sirius? It's about the history of magic."_

_"D'you think I'd like it?" His quill hovered over the selection box next to the subject. He had always been interested in what had happened in the past, like the Goblin rebellion and the Warlock wars, and he liked reading about the Witches and Wizards on his chocolate frog cards. He thought he would like to study History of Magic._

_"We already take it Sirius. Except you've never managed to make it to a single lesson because it's always on a Monday morning." James informed him._

_"Oh." Sirius replied, sounding downhearted. "Best not pick that option then. It might be on a Monday morning next year, too."_

* * *

><p>He had enjoyed a leisurely lie-in and had sauntered down to the kitchens around eleven o'clock to try and sweet talk a house-elf into making him some toast for his breakfast. They were more than happy to oblige, and Sirius stayed and chatted to them for the remainder of the morning. He left them only when lunch was to be served in the Great Hall. He decided to skip lunch, feeling more than satisfied with the breakfast the house-elves had prepared, and carried an armful of toast that they had sent him off with back to his office. He ran into Filch and his new assistant on his way. It was strange to see Mr Filch barking orders at someone who seemed to be paying attention but Sirius suspected that he was thoroughly enjoying it. Sirius was careful to ensure he dropped some toast crumbs on the newly-scrubbed floor, chuckling to himself as he left the two men to it, with Filch grumbling about the lack of punishment for naughty children in the school, and his assistant grunting perfunctory replies.<p>

He paced the classroom as he waited for his very first class. He realised that he wasn't sure what year they would be, and so he frantically began to search for a timetable that he hoped he'd left on his desk. He hadn't really looked at it much, and with a guilty feeling of dread, he realised he wasn't _actually_ completely sure that he had no timetabled lessons on Monday morning. Well, he reassured himself, it was far too late to do anything now.

A bell rang throughout the castle and Sirius went to prop the classroom door open. Slowly the children filed in, and as he surveyed the sea of eager and completely unknown children, he wondered what an earth he was supposed to teach them. Only now did he begin to regret his complete lack of preparation. He'd had three months in which to at least read a text book. Instead, he decided the best thing to do would be to improvise completely.

"Hello." He began cautiously when the children had settled into their seats. Of all the things Sirius Black had lived through, he never expected to be nervous standing in front of a group of schoolchildren. "I'm the new Defence against the Dark Arts teacher. Professor Boardman. I'm going to teach you how to defend yourself against… well, the dark arts." Merlin, he was making a mess of this. "Who are you?" He gestured around the class, and was met by a sea of confused faces.

"Do you want us to go around the room and introduce ourselves?" One student cautiously asked.

Sirius laughed nervously. "No, no! That would take ages." But it certainly would kill a bit of teaching time, he thought to himself. "I'll get to know you all eventually." He waved his hand dismissively. "Right, so you're third years?" He hesitated a guess. Evidently it was the wrong guess- he heard a few students laugh quietly before he was politely corrected. They were fourth years, he was informed.

"For our first lesson we are going to be learning about…" Well, Sirius wasn't sure. What did these students know already? Was he going to have to teach them the basics? He hunted around in his head for anything he could think of, and dragged out the first thing he came to. "Dementors."

He heard a chorus of confusion chime throughout the class. Dementors had not been an expected topic then. He pointed his wand at the chalkboard and a shaky script began to slowly appear on the black background, writing out the title of the day's lesson. He was going to have to practice that charm, it seemed.

He was disturbed briefly by the clicking of a lock lifting from its rest. The heavy oak door pushed open and a boy sneaked along the back row, hurrying along to an empty seat on the left hand side of the classroom. He dropped his book heavily on the desk and kicked his bag under the bench. "Sorry," He whispered loudly, nodding at the new teacher and throwing him what he hoped was an innocent smile. Sirius was almost glad of the distraction- it had allowed him to covertly scrub his writing from the board and use the chalk by hand to write it out again neatly without the students noticing.

"Right," Sirius began. "Dementors." He pushed up the sleeves of his robes and crossed his arms. He'd seen Remus do that once. Perhaps it looked professorial. "Well, they're not really people, but they're not animals either. They're creatures, I suppose." Sirius frowned at himself. This probably wasn't a great start. "They're really ugly, worse than old Snape," He looked round the class for recognition, but the faces that stared back were blank. Sirius guessed that they hadn't understood his joke. He went to sit against the edge of his desk. "They're the foulest creatures to walk the Earth."

"Please, Sir, what page is it in our books?" A polite voice interrupted from the bench at the front of the class.

"What page? Oh, it's, err…" Sirius had no idea. And how was he even supposed to know? It had been years since he'd actually looked through a Hogwarts text book. He'd been in a war, he'd been incarcerated in Azkaban, he'd been legally declared dead. He'd had a lot on his mind. How was he supposed to know what page it was?! "It's page, err…" he squinted his eyes, pretending to try and remember something he never knew in the first place.

"Didn't you check before the lesson, Sir?"

"Of course I _checked_," He lied. "What do you think I was doing this morning?!" He picked up his borrowed copy of the text book from behind him on the desk and began to flick slowly through. He tried to scan the page titles looking for anything on 'Dementors'.

"It's page 248." A familiar voice offered from elsewhere in the classroom.

"Yes exactly page 248. Thank you, Moony." Sirius called instinctively in reply. He turned and smiled smugly at the know-it-all sat in the front row. "Page 248." He whispered to her. Perhaps he could somehow find a way to move her to the back of the classroom.

* * *

><p><em>"Mr Black. You have arrived late to my lesson. You have failed to get any parchment or quills out of your bag. You have not even opened your book to the correct page. Would you kindly participate in this lesson, like the rest of your classmates?"<em>

_"What page is it in the book?"_

_"I have already told you. I hope you were not being so inconsiderate to be late, lazy, and apparently unable to listen to your professor?"_

_"No Sir." Sirius opened the book and flicked slowly though._

_"Page 248." A quiet voice whispered beside him._

_"Page 248." Sirius repeated loudly, opening the book flat on the desk to the correct page, and smiling smugly at the professor._

_"Thank you, Moony." Sirius whispered in reply._

* * *

><p>Sirius sat casually back down on the desk in front of the chalkboard in the classroom and opened the book to page 248. Merlin, he thought, he better have the same text book as his students.<p>

"Sir," A hand shot up. It was the girl from the front row- again. Sirius looked at her and smiled politely, motioning for her to continue. "I've read about these before. Is it true that they resemble decaying corpses, they exude cold and draw long, rattling breaths?" She said, sounding as though she had swallowed the text book.

"What's your name?"

"Rosamund, sir. Rosamund Wren."

"You seem to know an awful lot about Dementors, Miss Wren."

She smiled, satisfied with herself. "Well, I _have_ read this chapter in the book before, Sir. And I remember reading something about them last year in a book from the library."

"Wow," Sirius replied, desperately trying to hold back his sarcastic tone. She was only a child, after all. "And here I was thinking it was because you had spent twelve years of your life in Azkaban!"

Her smile swiftly dropped. "What's it got to do with _Azkaban?_" She asked.

Finally, something Sirius knew better than she did! Thank goodness for all those years he spent at that convict's retreat. "Dementors are the guards of Azkaban, of course."

"Not anymore, Sir. It says in the book that they don't guard it anymore."

"Does it? Well, it was so long since I was last there, it must have changed. But take my word for it, sixteen years ago, they guarded Azkaban."

"Perhaps you'd be better at teaching History of Magic, Sir." A boy called out from the back, and the rest of the class began to laugh. Sirius frowned. It said something when the students thought he would be better at teaching a class he never even _went_ to at school.

Somehow Sirius struggled through the rest of the lesson, with Rosamund Wren filling the extensive gaps in Sirius's knowledge, and Sirius himself embellishing a few facts to flesh out what he did know. With ten minutes before the end of the lesson, Sirius decided that he had had enough, and let the class pack away early.

"Excuse me?" It was Rosamund. Sirius groaned. She would prove to be a nuisance, he could tell. Rosamund. Rosa-mind-your-own-business. "Professor?" Sirius turned around. "I know we have our set books to read, I've already read mine, and there are books in the library," she rushed in one continuous breath, "but aren't you going to set us any homework? Any essays to write?" The rest of the class grumbled and began to mutter about the class 'know-it-all'. Sirius heard someone whisper, 'it's our first lesson!', and the boy beside Rosamund rolled his eyes.

"Homework?!" The thought repulsed Sirius. He'd barely done any homework whilst he was a student. It seemed rather hypocritical to set his class any. "No," He told her honestly. "I wasn't really thinking about doing that."

"But why not?" She replied incredulously, somewhat annoyed at Sirius. "It will help us demonstrate what we've learnt in class! And it's good practice for our examinations!"

Sirius crossed his arms, pouting like a stubborn child. "I don't want to have to mark it all." Why was he having to justify himself to a fourteen year old?! He could do what he liked- as teacher, he had earned it.

She huffed at her professor's blasé attitude towards her schooling, collected her books together and strutted out of the classroom, her nose stuck up into the air. Sirius wondered if he should be bothered by it, but he wasn't. He supposed if he'd annoyed her so much, perhaps she would make a complaint, and then he'd be asked to leave. Declared unfit to impart his wisdom on the next generation of witches and wizards.

The rest of the class, however, seemed to have a different opinion. Sniggering snaked around the classroom, and a couple of the more self-assured students began to whoop and clap. They passed by his desk as they left the classroom. "Nice one, Sir." Said one. "Cheers!" Said another. A couple of them stuck their thumbs up. One even went as far as giving Sirius a high five.

It hadn't been a great first lesson. In fact, if Sirius hadn't been able to check the textbook he's sure he wouldn't have remembered anything about the subject. And he hadn't even known what page in the textbook it was! Thank goodness for Moony. He always knew these things.


	8. Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown

Chapter eight: Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown

His first two weeks of lessons had been an embarrassment. Sirius had struggled through teaching the same lesson to the second, third and fourth years, and declared the Dementor lesson was a recap for the fifth and sixth years. The first years had been far too excited to _finally be at Hogwarts _to require any teaching, and were content to watch Sirius stand at the front of the class and practice a number of basic charms with varying success rates. The seventh years had been far too clever for Sirius; he'd resorted to spending the whole lesson regaling them with tales of his brand new backstory, fabricating impossible lie after impossible lie. He couldn't help but feel, however, that his made-up history would be far more believable than the truth.

It had only been two weeks of abysmal lessons but already the children had begun to talk. He heard voices float down the corridor as a group passed along, heading from one end of the castle to another.

"What? Professor Boardman?" The voice had laughed. "Yeah right! He hasn't got a clue what he's doing."

"How did he even become a teacher anyway? I think he even forgets what _subject_ he's teaching sometimes!"

"Can you imagine our exam answers? _Question: What are Dementors? Answer: Well, Professor Boardman supposes they're really ugly creatures." _The group of children broke out into peals of laughter.

So, filled a sense of regretful shame, he found himself slowly walking the corridor on the third floor towards Professor McGonagall's office. He was going to have to admit that he wasn't good enough to be a teacher. He'd been given the chance to get his act together, get everything he needed and prepare himself, but he had blown it by wasting his time in the corners of dubious bars, sitting in a morose sulk and draining firewhisky glasses.

And yet, despite his complete lack of skill and lack of prior interest, he'd secretly hoped he would be good. He'd wanted a position of authority and he'd wanted the respect. He'd lead a very peculiar life- and he'd wanted to be an inspiration. That's not to say he thought himself a paragon of a reformed life. And clearly, as he stepped onto the revolving staircase to the headmistress's office, that was far from the truth. He was many things- a naughty school boy, a convict, and a dead man- but he certainly wasn't a role model. His heart was heavy; how he wished he'd been good at it.

Professor McGonagall had been in the midst of writing a series of letters when Sirius entered the room. There were no pleasantries exchanged, and she sat expectantly at her desk as Sirius slouched with his back on the wall beside the door and held his head in his hands.

"I can't do it. I'm not a teacher! You can't let me teach these kids- I'm useless!" Sirius began to protest. "I haven't got a clue what I'm supposed to be doing and I never paid enough attention in school to know anything!"

McGonagall laid down her quill and folded her hands on the table-top. "Sirius, I don't want someone who will teach them how to pass their exams. I want someone who has enough practical experience of the dark arts to prepare these children for real life. And I know it's not a pleasant reality, but you've seen enough dark arts for a lifetime, Sirius. I think you would be good. I really do."

"But I don't know anything!" He protested again.

"Sirius, the younger children are _eleven years old_. They can just about stand a cauldron up the right way! Teach them the basics, all they need is an introduction to the subject. The second years are easy enough, too. Just make sure you stay one page ahead of them."

"But what about the rest?!"

Professor McGonagall sighed and gestured towards the chair opposite her desk, motioning for Sirius to sit down. "You need to prepare yourself properly. Get some text books from the library and find out what you need to cover with them, and you'll find out that you know more than you think. You know how to deflect curses and hexes, you know how to cure injuries caused by dark potions, you know how to fight a boggart, you know how to recognise a werewolf," She peered over her square glasses at him with steely eyes. "If they want to know about the theory, tell them to read a book. What they need you to teach them, Sirius, is how to protect themselves."

"They're laughing at me." He replied meekly.

"Oh, Sirius! You give as good as you get, I know what you're like! Don't give up straight away, Sirius. You've got more to offer than you think. You've got the chance to change the way these children think and you can teach them what you've learnt. You're living proof that anything's possible if you've got enough nerve." Sirius smiled modestly.

When she put it like that, Sirius began to believe in himself again. The light of excitement began to rekindle in Sirius's eyes. He'd never had the chance to choose a profession, he'd never given much thought to what he'd wanted to do with his life. He never thought he'd have a reason to. There had been a time when he thought he would grow old behind Azkaban's bars, and there'd been a time when he was content with it, too. He liked the notion of teaching the next generation of witches and wizards how to be great, he wanted the responsibility and the admiration. He wanted to read his name in lists of acknowledgements, as the teacher who'd taught them to overcome their obstacles, believe in themselves, and to pursue their dreams.

Professor McGonagall interrupted his thoughts. "Well, don't teach them everything you've learnt. I still haven't forgotten that hurricane you and James started in the fifth floor prefects' bathroom."

He had to admit it, McGonagall was probably right. He would find out in time that he knew more than he thought, and he'd have plenty to teach the children. He thanked her earnestly, and agreed to head into battle for a second time.

"Off you go then. Prove me right. Go to the library now, and spend the weekend preparing a few lessons for next week." Professor McGonagall peered over her glasses. "Do you want me to show you to the library?"

"The library hasn't moved since I was at Hogwarts, surely?" Sirius replied.

"No, it's still in the same place." She tried hard to repress her smile, but it was to no avail. "So come on, I'll show you where it is."

They left her office together and chatted fondly about old times. McGonagall reminded Sirius of the countless tricks he had pulled, and the endless number of detentions he was given, and Sirius reminded her of every time she turned a blind eye on his mischief and the detentions she let him get away with skipping.

* * *

><p><em>Sirius found himself in McGonagall's office- again. He'd been here so often that he had managed to memorise every detail in every picture on the walls, he knew every title of every book on the shelf, he knew the careful placement of every one of her peculiar trinkets, he knew exactly which drawer held her parchment and where she kept her quills. He spent more time in her office than he did anywhere else. <em>

_McGonagall seemed to have noticed too. "Here we are again, boys." She said wearily. Sirius could practically feel James' grin as they stood beside each other._

_"I think we've spent more time here than we have in our common room." James replied cheekily, voicing exactly what Sirius had been thinking. _

_"That isn't something to be proud of, Mr Potter."_

_"Perhaps we could get a couple of beds set up in the corner, Professor, since we spend so much time here." Sirius added._

_Peter, stood on the other side of Sirius, was trying to hold in his silent laughter. McGonagall, too used to the same speech she gave them every time and knowing it was all to no avail, sighed resignedly._

_"Why is it, when something happens, it is always you three?"_

_Sirius scoffed. "Actually, Professor, it's Remus as well, but he never seems to get caught."_

* * *

><p>Their easy reminiscing was broken suddenly by a loud, echoed shout from just around the next corner. Tension crackled though the air as they heard children chanting and jeering loudly.<p>

"Get back here, Diablo! Come on!"

"Or what?" The second voice was laughing, a high piercing laugh.

"I'll curse you!" The mocking laughter continued.

Professor McGonagall immediately froze, before charging in the direction of the voice. Sirius, consumed with curiosity, quickly followed. The clip-clop of McGonagall's heels on the floor was all too familiar. He could hear the sound of wands clattering on the stone floor mixed with children scuffling, and he was sure, from his vast back catalogue of experience, he could hear punches being thrown. He had to stop himself from grinning too much in excitement.

The scene around the corner was chaos. A gathered crowd of onlookers were surrounding two fourth-year boys struggling together on the ground. The boy on top, with messy hair, seemed to be winning. It seemed wrong to take sides, so Sirius tried desperately not to root for one over the other. The boy lying on the floor waved his arms and kicked his legs wildly as the second boy knelt on his chest and took hold of a handful of his shirt. He had scrunched his fist up into a ball and was throwing it carelessly, forcefully, into the other's face. Two wands lay forgotten on the floor. A number of girls in the watching crowd let out high pitched screams, as other boys tried unsuccessfully to stop the fight. Blood began to pour, and Sirius couldn't tell if it was from nose or knuckles or just a combination of the both. The sight horrified him, and if he didn't do something soon it would only get worse- much worse.

There was a brief pause in the fighting and the boy on the floor took his chance. He seized his opponent and was about to viciously shove him off him and onto the stone floor, when he was pulled forcefully away, as, almost instinctively, Sirius had lurched forward into the fight and grabbed the boys. He wrenched them apart, pushing the boy with the bloodied, battered nose carelessly to the side and restraining the one who'd been throwing the punches. He struggled against Sirius and tried to throw him off, but Sirius's hold was too strong. Sirius looked desperately at Professor McGonagall.

Her lips were narrowed into a thin line and her nostrils flared. Her glasses glinted ominously. She was staring at the two boys, and for a moment Sirius thought she was going to explode. When she spoke, she spoke in a low whisper.

"Diablo, you come with me. I will take you to the hospital wing. You can tell me what happened there." She glared at the other boy, trapped in Sirius's grip, and looked from one to the other. For the briefest moment, her expression softened, before quickly returning to its previous state. "Professor Boardman will deal with you." She said sternly. Professor McGonagall took the boy she'd addressed as Diablo firmly by the shoulder and marched him off to the staircase as he whimpered, holding his hand to his face.

The gathered crowd of spectators looked around in confusion, and the boy finally managed to shake out of Sirius's slackened grip. "You?" He asked in disbelief. Sirius stared back, clearly just as surprised. He hadn't expected to have to tell anyone off! He felt that this was payback for all the times he'd stood in the same hallways after being caught by his teachers, wand in hand, innocent smile plastered on his face and his unsuspecting victim clutching the cursed body part in agony. Sirius nodded solemnly at the boy whilst he decided what to say.

The boy let out a sceptical laugh. "Okay. Lead the way, _Professor_." He looked around at his friends, and a smile crept across his face.

Sirius knew that smile. It was one that said, _I know I'll get away with this._ Sirius knew, because Sirius had perfected it at school. Sirius had had the teachers wrapped around his little finger, and it looked like this boy thought he did too. He saw the boy roll his eyes at his friend, who grinned back in return. Had Sirius been this cheeky, this insolent? He'd always kept the teachers entertained, he'd always been a laugh. The teachers liked him, that was why he always got away with everything- wasn't it?

Sirius wasn't going to stand for this. The students thought he was a free ride. Poor, bumbling, clueless Professor Boardman. He wasn't going to be played the same way Sirius had played his old teachers. And luckily, Sirius knew all the moves.

"Give me your wand." He said firmly.

The boy's face wrinkled in confusion; he obviously hadn't expected it. "What?"

"Didn't you hear me? Give me your wand."

"No! Why?"

"Don't you think I know what you'll do?" If it had been Sirius, he'd have probably charmed a silly note onto his professor's back, or innocently sent obstacles flying at him on the way to his office. And he wasn't falling for that. "I'm not stupid."

"You do a good impression of it." A mischievous smirk spread across the boy's face, but Sirius's own face darkened, unimpressed. "That was a joke, Sir."

"I know." Sirius growled.

"Well, tell your face that."

Sirius rolled his eyes lazily. "Come and find me when I'm drunk, kid. Then I might laugh at your jokes."

The boy frowned, affronted. Usually he could charm his way out of everything. The teachers always laughed at him; they all liked him. "Lighten up, Sir! Who pissed in your firewhisky this morning?"

"Do your parents know how cheeky you are? If I was your dad I wouldn't let you get away with speaking to a teacher like that!"

"If you were my dad I wouldn't piss in your firewhisky, I'd poison it."

"If you were my son, I'd drink it." Sirius replied dryly. The silence hung heavy in the corridor as Sirius stared the boy down, unflinching, until the boy began to squirm and reluctantly handed over his wand. Sirius snatched it from his hand and stuck it into his back pocket. "Go on, the rest of you can clear off!" He waved his hand dismissively at the crowd before stalking off to his office, the boy trailing sullenly behind.

The students spread shocked gasps along the corridor before scattering in fear. Never had _anyone_ spoken to Teddy Lupin like that. They'd always wondered how he got away with it- he was so cheeky, assured, and charming, that all the other teachers just let him off. But it wasn't going to work with this teacher. Teddy Lupin had met his match.

* * *

><p><em>I take no credit for Sirius's wit. 'If you were my dad I wouldn't piss in your firewhisky, I'd poison itIf you were my son I'd drink it' is based on a quote from Winston Churchill. A female guest told him, 'If you were my husband I'd poison your tea.' To which he replied, 'Madam, if you were my wife I'd drink it.' and I think that's a fantastic put down. It just seemed to fit in here perfectly- especially since Sirius doesn't realise who Teddy's dad actually is! _


	9. I must be cruel only to be kind

_A.N: Usually I like to upload on Fridays but this one is early!_

_I'd just like to say thank you for all the feedback so far, its so nice knowing people are liking my story enough to want to follow/favourite it and getting reviews is so nice! I had a sudden epiphany yesterday regarding the story's ending and I am SO EXCITED by it haha, I think its good (but then I would!) so I have been doing a lot to this story which is why this chapter is early. The next one follows on from this so I think I'll upload it quickly (probably tomorrow). _

_This is a bit of a sad/serious chapter but after this the next couple are happier. If you like Sirius & Teddy (a pair that's rarely together in fics) then you'll like the next few chapters. And Harry will appear eventually, I have a special place for him, but I'm not looking forward to writing that chapter so I'm putting it off (I feel like I won't do it justice...) _

_Anyway enough of the never-ending note, I hope you enjoy this chapter and I'll see you tomorrow with the next!_

* * *

><p><span>Chapter Nine: I must be cruel only to be kind<span>

Sirius walked in silence to his office, the boy lagging behind. The boy was somewhat familiar, and Sirius guessed he was in one of his classes- he taught most of the school- but he had no idea which. Perhaps he should start paying more attention. They reached the classroom adjoining Sirius's office, and he motioned to the desk at the front of the class, and the boy sat down behind it. Sirius sat on the bench across. He crossed his arms and looked at the boy. He suddenly seemed very young, and scared, and not at all as confident as before. Sirius returned the wand he had taken, feeling quite safe that it would not be used against him now.

Sirius thought he should have felt angry at the boy's defiance and disrespect for Sirius's authority, but he wasn't. Sirius knew why, of course; they were exactly the same. He'd had the same comebacks as Sirius had, he treated the teachers like Sirius did, and he was up to all the same tricks. The bickering, the bantering- it had reminded him of being back at school with the Marauders. The quick comebacks reminded him of Moony. Part of Sirius had wanted to laugh; the boy _was_ funny, in a cheeky sort-of way, but Sirius didn't think it would have been very professional. He was stuck halfway between disapproval and amusement.

Yes, Sirius had been confronted with his fourteen year old self, and he hadn't the heart to tell him off. But he was going to have to say something. The only problem was that he couldn't think of anything that wasn't hypocritical, condescending, or worse- sensible.

The boy stretched his fingers, poking at them delicately with his other hand and wincing. They were swollen and grazed, blood seeping from the cuts, and a large purple bruise was beginning to form across the knuckles.

"We should probably sort that out." Sirius said.

The boy shook his head and replied nonchalantly, "I can probably just morph the cuts and bruises away, you know."

"They might be broken. In fact," Sirius reached across and tilted the boy's hand at his wrist, eyeing the swollen fingers. "I'm sure they are. I can fix those easily."

"What do you mean?!" The boy flinched, shaking off Sirius's firm hand and wincing at the movement. "Don't… don't you think I should go to Madam Pomfrey?"

"No, no. That won't be necessary." Sirius pushed up his sleeves. He held the boy's wrist carefully in one hand and pointed his wand at his broken fingers with the other.

"Have you ever done this before?" Sirius had to laugh at the boy's panicked tone.

"Of course! When I was at Hogwarts, this spell was performed at least once a week in our dormitory, on various broken bones. Mostly it was performed on me, though."

"What happened to the last person you performed it on?"

Sirius grinned as he remembered James's shocked expression when he'd stumbled too far into the reach of the Whomping Willow's branches. Sirius had gone straight to his rescue to fix his broken nose- after he'd finished laughing, of course. "Well, he died. But the two events were completely unrelated."

A soft cracking was heard.

"There. Healed." Sirius admired his handiwork.

The boy raised his hand to examine it gingerly. He stretched his fingers carefully. They seemed to be mended. "You did it? You did it wordlessly?! But I…"

"Didn't think clueless Professor Boardman was any good at magic?"

The boy looked down, embarrassed. "Sorry, Sir." He began to blush. "Thanks for that." He added, motioning towards his hand. The boy looked _really_ familiar; more familiar than just a student he taught for a lesson a week. The tips of his pale blue hair began to turn pink.

Bubblegum pink.

"Your hair." Sirius's eyes grew.

"Oh," The boy grabbed the end of a lock of hair and tried to bring it into his line of sight to see what had happened. When he realised, he frowned. "Oh, yeah. It does that. I can't help it sometimes." The boy blushed again, and the pink tips brightened. "I'm a metamorphmagus. I can…"

"Change your appearance at will! Yeah, my cousin is one!" Surely that wasn't the reason he was familiar? Sirius tried desperately to work out the maths in his head. If he fell through the veil sixteen years ago, and this boy looked old enough to be a fourth year…

"Aren't you going to lecture me on why fighting in the corridor is wrong? That doing magic outside the classroom is against the rules?" The boy interrupted.

The boy did have a point. They had insulted each other in the corridor and he'd then frogmarched him off to his office, but now it came down to it, Sirius just didn't think he had it in him. "I'll be honest, I don't think it would be fair of me. I did more than my fair share of rule breaking." Sirius admitted.

"At Hogwarts?"

Sirius shook his head. "In general." He shrugged. "Breaking the rules was never wrong. What was wrong was getting caught."

"How long ago were you at Hogwarts, sir?"

"Well, that depends on how old you think I am." Sirius sighed. The boy stared at him eagerly. "I'm…" Sirius paused, deciding what to admit to. "Approaching forty." He finished, satisfied with his hopefully vague reply.

"Approaching forty? From what direction?!"

"You know, you're bloody cheeky for someone who's just been caught fighting and _could_ be facing expulsion! I still could change my mind about a punishment. So, why were you fighting?"

"It's not important."

"I think it is." Sirius counteracted. The boy shrugged in response, but said nothing. "Who was that boy?" Sirius pressed.

"It was Victor Diablo." He finally admitted. "He's a Slytherin and he's horrible."

"Is he your arch nemesis?"

He raised an eyebrow. "People don't really have those."

"Well, what is he then?"

The boy considered the question, chewing his lip thoughtfully. "He's an arse." He decided. "A pureblood arse."

"Oh." Sirius replied, fighting back his smile. "I knew an arse at school. Golgomath Goyle. I called him _Gobby-Mouth _Goyle. He was a huge arse. And the thickest arse I've ever met. Give him another braincell and it would have died of loneliness."

The smiled despite himself. "You can't say that, Sir."

"No, you're right. Sorry. That's probably enough arses in this classroom."

They were quiet for a moment, when the boy finally spoke. "Apparently Victor's been practising dark curses." Sirius nodded in understanding. "He thinks anyone who isn't pureblood isn't worth anything. His parents weren't part of Voldemort's Army or anything but they supported what he believed in. So they've been telling Victor all this stuff and he believes it all." The boy had paused, flicking his finger on the desk.

"So you fought him because he believed what his parents told him?" Sirius furrowed his brow in confusion.

"No. Victor says anyone who isn't pureblood is soulless and evil. He...he says some stuff about me sometimes. I don't exactly have the best…" He paused, flicking his eyes to Sirius. "Well, it's not important. It wasn't about me. I don't care when he says stuff about me. But I heard him saying this stuff to a boy in the year below, because he was a muggleborn. It's not fair! He hasn't done anything to Victor! I tried to curse him to begin with but it wasn't that good so then I just thought I'd punch him instead. So, technically I did curse him first, but Victor started it."

It never changed. Whatever year it was, someone always thought purebloods were better than others.

Sirius wasn't sure that he should take sides- as a teacher he thought he should probably be the conscientious objector. But if I were taking sides, Sirius thought, I'd take yours. There was something about him that Sirius liked- perhaps it was his quick but quiet humour, perhaps it was his compassion for the underdog, or perhaps it was his kindness- the sort of selfless kindness that Sirius had only ever known one other person to possess.

"What's your name?" Sirius asked, distracted.

"Teddy, Sir."

"You were late to my first class, on Monday afternoon, weren't you?" Sirius remembered now.

A charming smile crossed Teddy's face. "Oh, yes. Sorry about that, Sir. It was Peeves, you see, he…"

"Trapped you in a locked room?" Sirius finished. "Or the staircases changed, or a ghost got in the way, or a house-elf needed someone to show them back to the kitchen. Teddy, believe me, whatever you've done, I've done it twice. I did it all at school- I'd turn up late to class, I never did homework, I got out of detentions, I fought with other students. I did some _terrible_ things, but I never got punished for any of it, not really. I lost a few hundred housepoints, I was given detentions I always skipped. I used an illegal hex at school once- all I got was a double detention. The teachers liked me too much and I got away with it all. I thought I had complete impunity." Sirius paused, taking a careful, measured breath. "When I left Hogwarts, I spent twelve years in Azkaban."

Teddy's eyes widened, and he shuffled uncomfortably in his seat. The colour began to drain from his face.

"At school you get away with so much that you start to think you could get away with murder. But believe me, in the real world, you can't." Sirius laughed bitterly. "You can't even get away with a murder you _didn't _commit. One day you'll push your luck too far. And they'll remember how you were good at winning people round. They'll remember all the tricks you pulled and the lies you got away with, and they start to think, perhaps he is capable of this. You'll pay for every insult you threw, every lie you told and every secret you revealed. So admit when you're wrong and accept your punishment. I know why you fought Victor, believe me, I know." He sighed heavily. "But we can't go around chucking hexes at people- even if they do deserve it." Sirius stared absentmindedly at a space on the desk, as if he'd got stuck in a dream. Teddy wasn't sure that he'd given that speech for his benefit.

Sirius shook himself out of his stupor. "Look, the point I'm trying to make, is that we _both _need to learn to stop being irrational and rash. At school I was always the one that would get into a fight. We should take a leaf out of my friend's book. I was a bit hot-headed, but he was always calm. He'd always think of the consequences. Don't go for loud, brash and reckless. Think of your actions, think of the consequences, and make the best decision. If you had to pick, don't pick me, pick Moony. You'll get nowhere if you pick me. Well, you'll get as far as cell nineteen in the high-security wing."

Teddy should have felt scared in Professor Boardman's company. He'd just admitted to once being a high-security Azkaban inmate. But he wasn't scared, he felt safe. He would have liked to have stayed and talked with Professor Boardman a bit longer, but he thought he might be outstaying his welcome if he did. He got up from the bench to leave, and smiled gratefully at his teacher, flicking his now bright blue hair out of his eyes.

When he reached the door, Teddy turned, a worried look crossing his face. "You're not going to send a letter home about this, are you?"

"Don't worry, I won't. This will be between just you and me." Sirius replied. "I know what it's like to get a Howler every morning. It's horrible, you think you get away from them, and then they're ruining your breakfast yelling at you through the post. Or they do if they're anything like my family, at least."

The irony of the statement was lost on them both; Sirius didn't know who Teddy's Grandmother was, and Teddy didn't know his teacher was his Grandmother's cousin.


	10. Double, double toil and trouble

Chapter Ten: Double, double toil and trouble

Sirius had barely waved Teddy goodbye before he heard a deafening clatter, like hundreds of tin plates falling onto the stone floor. It was followed by a boy cursing loudly, and a high pitched, mischievous cackle. Sirius recognised it. Peeves the Poltergeist. He jumped excitedly from his seat and headed out to find the source of the commotion. Just a few yards down the corridor, a pile of armour lay strewn about on the floor, with two boys frantically panicking in the midst.

Sirius was unsurprised to find that one of them was Teddy.

The other boy had his back firmly against the wall. He was thrashing wildly, but was going nowhere. "He's stuck! It's Peeves! He stuck Norman to the wall!" Teddy's eyes were wide and panicked. He was tugging at his friend's shoulder, trying to unstick his back from the castle wall.

Sirius laughed. He was quite an expert with removing sticking charms- or, he was an expert at_ trying_ to remove them, at least. He only hoped Peeves's was not as powerful as his parents' had been back at Grimmauld Place. "Have you tried a countercurse, Teddy?"

"I don't know what it is!" Teddy replied urgently. He fumbled in his pocket for his wand and hopelessly waved it in Norman's general direction.

"Oh, that's a shame." Sirius replied. "Looks like you'll be stuck here all day, mate."

"Sir!" Teddy whined. "Don't you know what to do?!"

"Me? Professor Boardman? No, I'm useless at magic." He teased. "How about I go and fetch a teacher?"

"No!" Norman and Teddy quickly replied together.

"Oh, boys, this certainly isn't good." Sirius grinned wickedly. He took out his wand and flicked it casually at Norman. "Careless, really." It was a countercurse he had tried at Grimmauld Place to no avail. But as Norman slouched forward away from the wall and began patting his shoulders, it had evidently worked.

Norman breathed a heavy sigh of relief. "Thanks, Sir."

"It was a lucky shot. I've had a lot of practice trying to break sticking charms." Sirius shrugged nonchalantly. "There's a portrait of my mother stuck to the wall with a particularly nasty sticking charm at the house where I grew up. I couldn't remove the blasted thing, and the old hag would start wailing insults at the top of her lung at anyone who dared to do anything but tiptoe past her. More than once I threatened to paint myself into the portrait with her. That always shut her up."

Teddy was looking at him curiously. "Did you ever manage to get rid of it?"

"No, it's still there." Sirius replied automatically, before he realised he wasn't actually sure anymore. "Well, it was still on the wall when I was last there."

"When was that?" Teddy quickly asked.

Sirius considered for a moment. "Sixteen years ago, I suppose." He admitted. It seemed strange to think like that. It really wasn't sixteen years ago- at least, to Sirius it wasn't. "What were you doing down this corridor?" Sirius asked suddenly, hoping to change the subject. "Your common room isn't this way."

"It was Peeves." Teddy answered bitterly.

"We saw him at the end of the corridor up there, and he said there was a Boggart in that suit of armour and-" Norman paused quickly, aware that he was about to admit something he shouldn't to a teacher.

"We wanted to have a look." Teddy admitted. He knew Professor Boardman wasn't going to tell them off for that. "But he was lying. There isn't a Boggart, just Peeves being a nuisance as usual."

"Did you think you'd have a go at taking on the Boggart yourselves?" Sirius asked. The two boys nodded dejectedly.

"Oh, I've been there, lads. Believe me."

* * *

><p><em>The desk shook forcibly. "That's a Boggart." Sirius's eyes glittered with excitement as he pointed at the drawer beneath the teacher's desk. They were supposed to be in a detention. Their new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher had not been told of the mischief the four marauders would get into were they put into a detention together, and so by some miracle that certainly wouldn't happen again, they found themselves distracting each other in the detention and the lines they were supposed to be writing had been long forgotten.<em>

_"Come on, let's find out!" James nodded his head towards the desk excitedly._

_"Leave it for a teacher to deal with." Remus said warily, knowing there was certainly no way Sirius Black and James Potter would ever involve a teacher. "You two can't take on a Boggart."_

_"Of course we can."_

_"We've already learnt about them."_

_"That was one lesson." Peter pointed out._

_James frowned. "Go and keep an eye out, Peter."_

_"Don't rat us out like last time, Pettigrew." Sirius said sternly, remembering the last time they had tried something, only for McGonagall to march in and ruin their fun after a tip off from Peter. The only reason Peter was with them now was so he wouldn't tell on them. _

_Peter did as he was told, and ran outside to guard the door, keeping it open so that he could send warning if a teacher did arrive._

_"James, you stand by the drawer there-" Sirius pointed over to the desk whilst he took up his stance facing it._

_"Sirius." Remus warned._

_James placed a hand on the drawer handle. "You tell me when you're ready, and I'll open it."_

_"James." Remus tried again. _

_Sirius nodded resolutely, taking a deep breath. "Alright, James, go on then." _

_James quickly pulled the drawer open beneath the desk and ran to stand beside Sirius. Both boys raised their wand arms, whilst Remus watched on in dismay._

_The tense build up was for nothing, as the Boggart flopped out of the desk drawer and landed on the ground with a squelch. A grey, slimy creature twitched in a pool of its own mucus. _

_James and Sirius lower their wands and looked at it, distinctly unimpressed. Remus couldn't help himself; he crept closer and stared at the thing on the floor. "What is that?" _

_"It's a headless-"_

_"-Slug."_

_"You're scared of headless slugs?" Remus asked in disbelief, addressing James and Sirius as everybody did- as if they were one person._

_"No! I was thinking of headless corpses."_

_"Well, I was thinking of flesh-eating slugs."_

_"You've confused it and turned it into half a slug!" Remus laughed at their disappointed looks. "That's not remotely frightening!" _

_Sirius poked the creature with the end of his wand. "Well, don't just stand there laughing! Help us sort this out before anyone sees!"_

_Remus fell about laughing as Sirius waved his slime covered wand in disgust, and James, finally seeing the funny side, joined in. _

_"You're _supposed _to laugh at Boggarts, Sirius!" James managed to say between breaths of laughter. Sirius shrieked as James pushed him from behind and he wavered on the spot, before he fell with an uncharacteristic gawkiness into the pool of the slug's slime. He writhed, horrified, as James roared with laughter, and finally Remus pointed his wand at the Boggart, disappearing it with an easy flick of his wand._

_ Sirius stood up and finally regained some composure. He glared at James, who was now pointing at Sirius's slime covered shirt and laughing. "You know, I don't think it was a flesh-eating slug at all." He drawled. "I think James Potter is scared of Flobberworms."_

* * *

><p>Clicking footsteps could be heard further down the corridor. "Go on, clear off," Sirius urged the two fourth years. "Before you get yourself into any more trouble. I'll sort this out." With a swift wave of his wand, Sirius vanished the lot. He hoped no one would notice the disappearance of the suit of armour statue. Mr Filch, followed closely by his assistant as usual, sulked around the corner, and Sirius frowned. If he'd have known who it would be, he'd certainly have let Peeves loose on the rest of the corridor. All that potential for mischief, and Sirius had acted responsibly. Like a teacher. He made himself sick. He watched as at the other end of the corridor, two figures darted quickly through a doorway and out of sight.<p>

There was something Sirius liked about Teddy. There was something about him that made him feel like he was a Marauder again. He was familiar. He seemed to mean something to him, almost as though Teddy was a friend he'd had when we was young, and had half-forgotten.

* * *

><p><em>A.N: This flashback is inspired by Lupin in P.O.A when he says in his Boggart lesson;<em>

_"Which should he become- a headless corpse or a flesh-eating slug? I once saw a Boggart make that very mistake- tried to frighten two people at once and turned himself into half a slug. Not remotely frightening."_

_I really wanted to get this flashback in, which is why this chapter is only short, almost pointless and a bit randomly shoved in. So sorry about that but I hope you liked it anyway!_


	11. Be not afraid of greatness

Chapter Eleven: Be not afraid of greatness

Sirius really had taken McGonagall's advice to heart. For the first time since he could remember, he had willingly woken early on Monday morning and spent it rearranging the furniture in his classroom. Whilst he had woken early, he hadn't quite made it in time for breakfast, but these things took time, he told himself, and one miracle was quite enough for a Monday morning.

He began by practising his levitation charms. It was just like riding a broom; it took just a little practice before it was as if he'd never forgotten. He swished and flicked and recited the incantation and the long desks were levitated carefully out of the centre of the room and moved along the outside. The benches, too were moved, until there was nothing in the centre of the room and the seats were arranged around the edges. His desk however remained in front of the large window at the front of the classroom on the raised platform.

By the time he had finished it was almost lunchtime. He had had a visit from Professor McGonagall whilst he had been in the midst of his renovations, and he had been almost embarrassed to find her smiling so proudly at him. The smile had quickly disappeared, however, when she had informed him that she had heard about the punishment he _hadn't _given to Teddy after he was caught fighting, and that he would have to at least give Teddy a detention. He had, after all, broken school rules.

When the bell rang for the start of lunch, Sirius headed downstairs, deciding he would join the other teachers and students today for lunch, rather than bypassing the hall and heading straight for the kitchens as he had done for the past two weeks. He was glad that he had; when lunch finished he had been able to catch Teddy, who was making sure he would be on time this week, as they both left the Great Hall to head to the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom.

"Sorry, Teddy." Sirius said. "Old McGonagall's found out I let you off after your little run-in with what's-his-name. Apparently 'boys will be boys' isn't an excuse. I've got to give you a detention. So I'll see you on Thursday at eight o'clock in my classroom."

Teddy frowned, clearly thinking he had got away without a detention. And he wasn't going to give in to a detention so easily. "I can't do detention on Thursday, Sir. I told Madam Pince that I'd help her rearrange some of the books in the library because she's got some new books that she needs to find space for, and even with magic it's still a big job and I'd told her I'd help. Sir, why don't you come too? We could use all the help we could get, it would make the job a lot quicker…" Teddy gabbled on.

"Fine. Detention on Friday, instead." Sirius interrupted.

Teddy gaped. "Hang on! What happened to _'it wouldn't be fair of me'_?! You said, ´_breaking the rules was never wrong. What was wrong was getting caught.'" _Teddy recounted.

"Well, you did get caught, didn't you? So I'm punishing you for that." Sirius replied. "Look, McGonagall said I can't let you off. She said I was supposed to be _'impartial'_." He pulled a face. McGonagall had told Sirius this in such a way that he felt like she expected him to show favouritism to Teddy over the other students. "I'll teach you how to _not_ get caught. Let's start a mutiny." Sirius added playfully.

"It wasn't even my fault!" Teddy carried on indignantly. "It was Victor Diablo! Is he getting a detention too?"

"I think he's still in the hospital wing, mate." Sirius tried to interject, but Teddy soldiered on.

"You know, if you could have kept McGonagall occupied for ten more minutes before the two of you barged around the corner, I could have finished Diablo off and no one would have known a thing! So really, Sir, it's your fault I got caught!"

Sirius didn't understand Teddy's logic, nor did he often meet anyone who had an answer for everything. He was rivalled only by James Potter. "Teddy, if talking was a competition, you wouldn't finish last." He told him, hoping it might shut him up for a bit- it had always worked on James. "Detention. Friday." He reiterated. Teddy frowned, affronted, and crossed his arms. He groaned. It looked like he was going to have to have a detention- on a Friday night, of all nights.

The two walked together up the marble staircase to the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom. Sirius opened the door and propped it open, before striding eagerly into the very centre of the floor. As the rest of the children began to enter the room, they looked around at the curious room set up, and Sirius instructed them to take a seat on the benches. They weren't going to need the tables, today. It was to be a practical lesson.

He waited for the classroom to fill up and for all the students to arrive. Bobbing on his heels, he reintroduced himself to the class.

"Good afternoon," he said. "I think we got off to the wrong start." A few students politely laughed. Sirius noticed Teddy smiling reassuringly. "Would you please put all your books back in your bags?" Rosamund Wren, who had removed her heavy text book from her bag before the lesson had actually begun and had it spread open on her lap, huffed loudly. "Today's will be a practical lesson. You'll only need your wands." There was shuffling as bags were zipped back up and wands were taken out of pockets. He smiled as the children turned to each other and grinned.

With the children eagerly ready to listen, and a new sense of respect for their bumbling Defence professor slowly growing, he began his lesson.

"This is, of course, Defence Against the Dark Arts. So I obviously need to teach you how to defend yourself in these lessons." He began. "The whole point of Defence Against the Dark Arts is to practice defensive spells. Now, theory is useful to know, but what good's theory going to be in the real world? If you find yourself in the middle of a duel, knowing who invented the stinging hex and when isn't really going to help." The children chuckled quietly, whilst Rosamund crossed her arms stubbornly. Sirius paced around the circle of children. "What will help, though, is knowing how to perform the charm in question, and knowing when to use it. Fighting and duelling isn't like it is in the classroom. It isn't practiced and secure. It's sudden and rash and you have to think quickly, or you'll find yourself being hit with a curse and falling and it'll be so painful you'll think you've died." Sirius looked around at all the fervent eyes staring back at him, and he was surprised to find he actually knew what he was doing.

"So we're going to start by learning what's perhaps the most useful charm, and one that can really be used in practically every case. The Shield charm. It will protect you from almost every spell your opponent throws at you, and very good shield charms will repel the spell back on them. The incantation is very simple. Come on everyone, stand up!" There was a flurry of movement as the children got to their feet. "Repeat after me: _Protego."_ They chorused it together several times before Sirius demonstrated the accompanying wand movement, and they practiced that, too.

Satisfied that they were ready to try both together, Sirius instructed the class to practice the charm alone first, and within ten minutes every student had produced something that at least resembled the shield charm. Whilst it may not have protected them from_ all_ curses, they were certainly valiant efforts, and Sirius admired their results. He instructed the class to pair up, as they would be trying it out properly by shielding themselves from each other's spells.

"But harmless spells only, please! So dancing feet jinxes, Jelly-legs jinxes, anything else you know." He shouted over the children's excited chatter, as they were turning in their pairs to face each other and taking up the correct stances. "If I catch anyone performing a curse that will require an accompanying trip to the hospital wing I will personally make sure that you are sent there in a matchbox. Off you go, then!" He began to circle slowly around the room critiquing the pairs; aiding wand movements, adjusting wrist positions, whispering potential jinxes to try out. And for the first time since he fell through the veil, he found that he was thoroughly enjoying himself.

* * *

><p><em>The Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom was crowded and alive with the tumultuous calls of twenty fourth year students shouting charms. They had been paired off together and were practising disarming charms.<em>

_Sirius stood lazily, dangling his wand from his fingertips. "Come on, Peter, you're not even trying!"_

_"I am!" Peter poked his tongue out in concentration and took up the correct stance once again, holding his wand out in front of him. Out of the corner of his eye, Sirius could see Remus and James laughing together, and Sirius desperately tried to supress his own laughter. _

_"Expelliarmus!" Peter shouted firmly, his forehead wrinkled with effort. He waved his wand at Sirius, but yet again, Sirius kept a firm hold of his own wand, and Peter's flew from his hand and onto the floor between them._

_"Are you sure you've got your wand the right way round, mate?" Sirius said in tones of mock concern. He bit back his smile as Peter scurried forward to recollect his wand._

_"I think so." Peter replied anxiously, furrowing his brow. He looked down at his wand curiously, and as if just making sure, he turned it round and held the wand's handle out instead. He steadied himself again, but it was too much for Remus and James to see Peter stood with his wand the wrong way round trying to disarm Sirius. They roared with laughter, and Peter looked indignantly across at them, whilst Sirius, too, finally succumbed, laughing with them. _

_Peter was the only one who didn't laugh. "What's so funny?" He asked, but it was no use, as James and Remus collapsed together in hysterics, and James wiped tears from his eyes. Sirius walked over to Peter and clapped a hand heavily on his shoulder. _

_"How thick are you, Peter?" Said Sirius impatiently, shaking his head. "They're casting a shield charm on me and its reflecting your spells!"_

* * *

><p>"Change pairs!" Sirius shouted, and with a bustle of movement the children began to switch partners. Somehow, there appeared a group of three, which Sirius didn't mind, until he realised that would mean there would be an odd child.<p>

Once again he found himself unsurprised that it was Teddy.

He had emerged from the other side of the room and bounced up to Sirius with the kind of cheerful enthusiasm that reminded him of his cousin, Tonks. "Come on then, Sir." Teddy pointed his wand eagerly at Sirius.

"Are you sure, Teddy?" He had a very suspicious feeling that Teddy had somehow arranged for the group to work in a three.

Teddy raised his eyebrows challengingly. "Clueless Professor Boardman? Piece of cake." He teased. "I'll cast the first jinx."

"No, Teddy. We're practicing Shield Charms. I'll cast the jinxes, and you will practice the shield charm." Sirius was careful to go easy at first, and he found that Teddy's shield charms were excellent. He even managed to perform one that made the jinx rebound, and as Sirius performed the counter-jinx to stop his shoulders from twitching, Teddy smiled apologetically at him. There weren't many people who apologised during a duel, Sirius thought, but he could certainly think of at least one other. In fact, now he considered it, Teddy also had a very familiar stance, and he held his arm out in a familiar way, and he had the correct hold on his wand, and Sirius found it all very reminiscent of someone else.

"Come on, Sir! Or do you give up?" Teddy called, grinning.

Now Sirius was brave enough to show off. He turned his back, which he would have normally advised against, and spun quickly, throwing his wand arm out in quick succession and performing a jinx that Tonks had taught him one long evening at Grimmauld Place. Teddy was caught off guard, laughing at what he thought was his victory, before the smile was literally slapped off his face. Teddy had dropped his wand to the floor and was hitting his own cheeks. His friends looked round and started to laugh at Teddy's startled expression as he involuntarily continued to slap himself.

"That's a cool jinx, Sir!" A boy from the pair beside Teddy called.

"Will you teach it to us?" Someone else asked.

"No, Sir, don't stop it!" Another shouted, as Sirius pointed his wand at Teddy's face. His arms dropped quickly to his side, before he grimaced and gingerly patted his now pink cheeks. The ends of his hair began to turn bubblegum pink again.

"Now come on," Sirius replied coolly. "I think we've probably had enough for today." The class groaned collectively. "We don't want to spoil a good thing!" They began to shuffle to the desks and collect up their bags. "Well done today, everyone. You've done very well." He told them. "I'm really proud of you!" He watched as they all smiled at each other, embarrassed of the praise.

"Oh, Miss Wren!" Sirius could see her just about to leave the classroom. "If you want, you can read the chapter in your book about shield charms and summarise it for me, and I promise I'll mark it for you." She smiled shyly at him before flicking her hair over her shoulder and heading out of the classroom door.

At the evening feast, Sirius could hardly eat his dinner for all the constant waves he had to respond to from the children. The news of the fourth years Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson had obviously spread through the castle like wildfire, and now all the students were eager to attend the newly respected Professor Boardman's lessons.

There was something that still bothered him, though, and he just didn't know why. Teddy.

* * *

><p><em>So many lines were *borrowed* from the books so see how many you can spot!<em>


	12. To do a great right, do a little wrong

Chapter Twelve: To do a great right, do a little wrong

The rest of the week's lessons continued on as the first had done, with only the seventh years proving to be a little more difficult to teach. They were extraordinarily clever, not so much that Sirius couldn't keep up with them, but certainly so that he would need to work very hard on their lessons in particular. It was taking time for him to remember everything that he was sure he already knew. But they were also more than content to listen to first-hand accounts of his days on the battlefield, and he took great care in explaining exactly _how_ he had defended himself, and they also enjoyed participating in duels. Sirius found that this had been one of his favourite, and most engaging, lessons of the week. Not only had he taught them what he knew, but they had also taught him a few things, too.

Professor McGonagall had noticed the change in Sirius, and she was more than proud. She couldn't stop herself beaming at him as he talked animatedly with the other teachers during Friday evening's feast. She just hoped that Sirius was teaching the students all the right things.

* * *

><p>At seventeen minutes past eight that evening, Sirius strolled leisurely through the door of the classroom to see Teddy waiting for him on a bench at the side of the class. "Oh," He said. "You're early. You must be keen." Sirius hoped Teddy wouldn't point out that actually, the detention was supposed to have started at eight o'clock.<p>

"Early?" Teddy asked in confusion- he'd turned up five minutes ago and been worried that his tardiness had caused him to miss Professor Boardman.

Sirius shrugged his shoulders. "Sure, why not." He replied indifferently. "Have you got any parchment with you? You've got to write some lines." Teddy reached into his bag and pulled out a roll, along with a quill and a pot of ink, and he set it all out on the desk behind him, turning on the bench so that he could sit at the table.

Sirius walked around his own desk and lifted a scrunched up piece of paper from the table-top. The square script was recognisable as Professor McGonagall's. Sirius read from it tonelessly, "_'I must not fight in the corridors_', three feet of parchment."

He took up his position behind the desk at the front of the classroom and wondered what to do. He began to rearrange some of the books that he'd left strewn on the floor by pushing them around with his foot, but he quickly grew bored. He pulled open the desk drawers wondering what he might find if he rifled through, but he remembered that this was _his _desk, and he hadn't bothered to actually put anything in the drawers yet. He watched Teddy as he drearily wrote out his lines.

Ten minutes passed slowly by before Sirius began to grow tiresome. He was starting to become bored, and decided he would pass the evening by visiting the Hogwarts kitchens for a snack and a drink. He stood from his chair, and Teddy looked over at him hopefully. "I'm just going somewhere." Sirius told him ambiguously.

"What? Now?" Teddy asked, and Sirius nodded in reply, walking across the room to the door. "But, Sir," He protested. "You can't just leave me! You have to stay in the detention too, you know! What if I leave before I've finished all three feet? What if I cheat? What if something happens to me? Or what if I use magic to finish the rest off?"

Sirius turned around, annoyed. "Do you know any magic that you could use to finish it off?" Sirius asked, but Teddy shook his head. Why did he have to stay?! It hardly seemed fair. It felt like McGonagall had given him a detention, too. With a sigh of exasperation, Sirius returned unwillingly to the chair and began tapping his fingers on the desk, watching Teddy's careful strokes. "Apparently it doesn't matter if you miss out a few letters because your brain just fills in the rest." He offered Teddy hopefully.

"Maybe _your _brain does." Teddy dipped his quill into his pot of ink.

"Come on, could you hurry up?" Sirius moaned. Teddy looked at Sirius with a defiant glint in his eyes and began to slowly and deliberately scratch his quill across the parchment.

"How do you spell, '_corridor_', Sir?"

"You know how to spell that, mate."

* * *

><p><em>A shadow flickered over Sirius as someone sat down gently at the desk beside him. Sirius didn't look up; he knew who it would be. He could tell from the careful footfalls and measured gait. He visibly relaxed.<em>

_"Don't tell me Moony's got a detention, too." He drawled. The silence was broken only by the quiet breath of laughter and the continued scratch of quill on parchment._

_"I've come to see if you're nearly finished." _

_Sirius rolled the blank parchment out in front of him and down the back of the desk. "Not even close." He sighed. He could sense Remus smiling beside him. "How long have I been here now?"_

_"Well, we left the common room together. And I went to start Prefect duty and you came here," Remus checked his watch. "And that was fifteen minutes ago." _

_Sirius groaned. "You can't have finished Prefect duty already?!" He asked Remus, amazed. _

_"I've got it all under control." He replied, rolling the Marauder's Map open on the desk. There were no labelled dots moving along any of the seventh floor corridors, which Remus was supposed to be patrolling. His prefect badge shimmered from its discreet hiding place on his jumper beneath his robes. "Come on, could you hurry up?" _

_"That's easy for you to say, Moony, you're not the one that has to write four feet of lines for McGonagall!"_

_"Where is Professor McGonagall?" Remus asked, looking to the vacant teacher's desk at the front of the room._

_"She leaves me to it now. Says I should know by now how these detentions work."_

_Remus looked over Sirius's shoulder at the parchment in front of him. "You know 'corridor' is spelt with two r's?"_

_Sirius balled his hand into a fist and banged it on the desk. "Oh, now I'll have to start all over again!" He bemoaned. _

_Remus chuckled beside him. He removed his wand from the pocket in his robes and held it over Sirius's work. "Imitatus." He lead the wand across the script written on the parchment, and then down the whole sheet. Four feet of duplicated words appeared. _

_Sirius's eyes glowed eagerly. "What about the spelling mistake, though?" _

_"Leave it there. McGonagall will know it was you, then." Remus grinned. _

_Somewhere in the room, a muffled voice was calling Sirius's name. Remus pointed to Sirius's thigh. "Sirius, I think your pocket is trying to talk to you." _

_Sirius reached into his pocket and pulled out a small square mirror. It was very dirty, but then it had spent its evening in Sirius's trouser pocket. At least it looked like a mirror, but when Sirius looked into it, two bespectacled hazel eyes that certainly didn't belong to him stared back._

_"Are you talking to someone?" James's voice asked from the mirror. "We were having a nice chat until I got shoved into your-"_

_Sirius cut him off. "It's only Moony."_

_"What's he doing there? Moony, what are you doing there?!" James shouted at no one. Sirius handed the mirror over to Remus._

_"Is this a two way mirror?" He asked, unsure whether to be impressed or disapproving._

_"Moony!" James's voice still whined. "Why are you with Padfoot? What's going on? Are you in detention?"_

_Remus laid the mirror face down on the desk, frowning. Sirius grinned. "He's always more annoying in mirror form." _

_"I can hear you!"_

_"Well then," Remus sighed, pulling Sirius up off the bench by his elbow. "I suppose we best help James, too."_

* * *

><p>Sirius stood up again and walked to stand behind Teddy. He retrieved his wand from his pocket and held it on Teddy's work. "Hey!" Teddy protested indignantly.<p>

But Sirius ignored him. "_Imitatus."_ He moved his wand along the paper and down, watching as the words appeared, repeating neatly along the parchment.

"Wow." Teddy was impressed. "I'm going to have to remember that."

"No, you won't." Sirius berated.

"Why did you do that though, Sir? I was only writing those lines for _your_ benefit."

"No, Teddy, you were writing those lines to learn a lesson. And what lesson did you learn?"

"I shouldn't fight in corridors." He tediously repeated.

"Wrong. You shouldn't _get caught_ fighting in corridors." Sirius grinned conspiratorially. "And you should always have a friend who knows useful charms. Now," He rolled Teddy's parchment up and tossed it over his shoulder and onto his desk. "I don't know about you, but I fancy a Butterbeer. I think we deserve it, after all this hard work."

"Hard work?!" Teddy repeated. "Sir, we've been here for twenty minutes!"

"Oh. Are you sure? Well, that must be a new record!"

"What? For the shortest detention?"

Sirius rolled his eyes. "Yeah. _Shortest_." He lied.

Sirius led Teddy out of the room and decided to take the safest route he could think of to get to the kitchens. He did not want to risk running into McGonagall when he and Teddy were supposed to be in detention. There was a very good passageway on the second floor that led to the opposite end of the basement corridor, and he knew that if he went down the back staircase outside the third floor bathrooms they would not be as likely to be spotted. When they turned right out of the classroom and headed towards the bathrooms, in the opposite direction to the grand marble staircase, Teddy didn't question him.

The house-elves were as hospitable as ever. Sirius had grown close to several of them since he had arrived in the castle three months ago. He didn't know whether any of them remembered him from his schooldays but he very much doubted it. They did, however, remember his liking for Butterbeer, as more than once when he had been in the castle before the children arrived he had visited and requested a bottle, often staying to chat with the house-elves as well.

He greeted them politely and introduced Teddy, though they didn't seem surprised to see the new visitor. They were ushered over to two small crates in the corner and sat down, waiting patiently for the elves to return with Sirius's contraband.

Teddy looked around the kitchen idly. "They're much nicer than the other house-elves I know."

"We had one when I was growing up." Sirius recalled. "Miserable little bugger. I'd regularly chase him around the house waving a dirty sock at him. He used to be terrified I'd set him free."

"Why wouldn't he want to be set free?"

"It was his dream to have his head chopped off and nailed to the wall, just like the rest of his family." Teddy looked at Sirius, horrified. "It was a pastime of my father's." He added, not wanting Teddy to get the wrong idea.

Sirius wondered what Kreacher was up to now. It was Kreacher's fault that Harry had gone to the Ministry of Magic looking for Sirius in the first place. It was Kreacher's fault that Sirius had followed and fallen through the veil. It was Kreacher's fault he was stuck in the future. He wondered if Kreacher had achieved his lifelong ambition and had ended up on the wall. Sirius very much hoped he had.

* * *

><p><em>A.N: As Sirius says in O.O.T.P;<em>

_"This is a two-way mirror…James and I used to use them when we were in separate detentions."_

_What can I say, I just like including little references to the books!_


	13. Mischief, thou art afoot

_A.N: But hang on, we've just had an update!_

_Which is right, but... this chapter is basically 'part two' of the last one and they follow on from each other so I thought I'd get it uploaded quick. Also I've got the next five or so chapters written and I'm excited for you to read them so I'm uploading them quickly! Enjoy. _

* * *

><p><span>Chapter Thirteen: Mischief, thou art afoot<span>

Sirius took the armful of Butterbeers from the house-elves who had bought them over and thanked them, heading back to the portrait to leave the kitchens. "We'll take these back to my classroom." He told Teddy. "I think I've got some chocolate frogs somewhere. That sounds more fun than a detention." He had asked a house-elf to buy him some when he'd been bored one afternoon- it had been funny to see that the cards hadn't changed in sixteen years. "Do people still collect chocolate frog cards?"

"Yeah! They release new ones every year." Teddy told him.

Sirius laughed. "Well it was so long since I was 14, I didn't know if they'd gone out of fashion or not."

They returned to the classroom following the same path they had taken to get to the kitchens. The castle was dark and quiet, and it reminded him of every night time trip he had taken not dissimilar to this one. Only now, he was a teacher, and it was perfectly acceptable for him to be wandering the castle at whatever time of the evening he pleased. It just didn't feel right, though, not to be huddled under James's invisibility cloak.

"So how did yesterday go?" Sirius asked, suddenly remembering the excuse Teddy had given to him trying to get out of his detention.

Teddy, however, had evidently forgotten. "Yesterday?"

"You were helping Pince sort out the library, remember."

"Oh! Oh, yeah, that." The tips of Teddy's hair turned the familiar shade of pink once again.

It made Sirius laugh. "I'll admit, that's a new one. I never tried that excuse in school." Sirius admitted. "To be honest, I don't think anyone would have ever believed it."

"It wasn't an excuse!" Teddy tried to deny. "I had planned to go and help, of course, but then I got side-tracked with some homework that I had to finish. Well, I didn't have to finish it, it's not in until next week, but I wanted to get it done and get it out of the way. And I was going to help today, but well, I'm in this detention with you…" Teddy gabbled on.

Sirius thought he could hear something coming from the top of the hidden staircase they were climbing up, as if someone was scuffling around beside the tapestry where the staircase came out to. If Teddy was quiet for a minute, Sirius would be able to listen.

"Teddy, mate." Sirius interrupted, sounding exasperated. "Do you have an off switch? Or a counter-spell?"

He frowned. "My Gran always says that to me as well."

"You haven't thought to take the hint?"

It was no use anyway; whatever was at the top of the staircase must have heard them coming, because the scuffling had stopped.

They stepped off the top of the staircase and came out near the third floor toilets. Two figures stood at each end of the corridor. One stood hunched over a metal mop bucket, his back towards Sirius and Teddy, and at the opposite end of the corridor, sweeping the hallway with a broom, was Mr Filch. Neither had noticed them arrive from their secret passage, which was for the best- it would have only caused questions. Beside him, Sirius heard Teddy groan faintly.

"It's Filch's assistant." He muttered, pointing at the hunched figure with his back towards them. Sirius raised his eyebrows for an explanation. "He creeps me out. I think he hates me, you know. I don't know why!" He tapped Sirius frantically on the arm. "Create a diversion so I can sneak past and he won't see me."

"A diversion? Teddy, this isn't a death eater attack!" Sirius whispered in reply, carrying on forward and shifting the bottles in his arms. The noise of clinking glass made Filch's assistant look around.

He didn't take his eyes off either of them, nor did he say a single word. Sirius could feel his glare, and it made him uncomfortable. He could see why Teddy didn't like him. As they came to pass beside him in the corridor, he let out a low snarl. Sirius stepped around Teddy protectively, putting himself between the two. "Evening," Sirius said brusquely. The man didn't reply.

He continued to stare at them as they walked further to the end of the corridor to the corner, Sirius looking over his shoulder as they did. They turned the corner, and Sirius stopped Teddy.

"Hold these." He whispered, passing the bottles of Butterbeer into Teddy's arms. Sirius removed his wand from his pocket, and poked his head around the corner. Mr Filch had carried his broom along the corridor towards his assistant, who had gone back to his slow, methodical moping, most likely to give him some other kind of pointless job to do. Sirius grinned slyly as he cast a careful charm on the mop.

"_Sordidum_." He whispered.

They heard Filch's assistant grunt in confusion as he pushed the mop across the stone floor, a thick, heavy streak of muddy dirt following behind. Mr Filch grumbled, saying something about what a careless job his assistant was doing. Teddy and Sirius had chased back down to the classroom before anyone could work out what Sirius had done.

* * *

><p><em>The two boys snuck carefully out from the end of the hidden passageway. It was not past curfew yet, but it was close. Their bundle of snacks was wrapped in the invisibility cloak and they carried it back to their common room cautiously. <em>

_As they climbed out from the passageway, they saw Filch in the middle of the corridor kneeling on the floor and scrubbing at a number of muddy footprints. The footprints lead to Gryffindor Tower, and they knew they belonged to James Potter. _

_A clinking from the bottles in their package alerted Filch to their sudden appearance. Filch turned, and seeing it was Sirius Black and Remus Lupin, he sneered. There was something he didn't like about Remus, but he didn't know what. Filch let out a disgusted grunt, refusing to take his suspicious eyes off Remus._

_Sirius stepped around Remus protectively, putting himself between the two. "Evening," Sirius drawled as they crossed by him in the corridor. The man didn't reply. _

_They carried on walking. "Wait," Sirius held Remus back before they reached the portrait hole. "What charms do you know?"_

_Turning to look behind him, Remus smiled sadly, but shook his head. "Sirius," He reprimanded half-heartedly. _

_Sirius crossed his arms. "Don't spoil my fun, Moony."_

_"What were you going to do?" Remus looked up at the portrait, and muttered the password. She swung away from the wall to let them pass. They passed the bundle of snacks to Peter, who had been waiting inside the common room. James bounded towards them eagerly. _

_"I wanted to charm his scrubbing brush so that he'd scrub dirt all over the floor!" _

_"You don't know a spell that would do that." Remus pointed out._

_Sirius pouted. "But you do!"_

_"It probably wouldn't work."_

_James, who had overheard the conversation, grabbed them both by the elbow, and dragged them back towards the portrait hole. "Come on, let's find out!"_

* * *

><p>The Butterbeer was set down on Sirius's desk, and Sirius tapped his wand against the caps to remove them. Teddy sat on the wooden chair on the opposite side of the desk, and Sirius took up his own seat. He passed a bottle of drink over to Teddy.<p>

"Let's toast to our success." Sirius decided, raising his bottle. "To us. Let us be in heaven half an hour before the devil knows we're dead." His eyes glittered mischievously and they clinked their Butterbeers together. They drank quietly for a moment.

"Teddy, you're a metamorphmagus," Sirius announced thoughtfully, taking a swig from his bottle of Butterbeer. "I've always wanted to know, do you always morph yourself? I hope you don't think that's a personal question."

Teddy shook his head. "Everyone asks me that. Sometimes I _can't_ morph. When I'm really stressed, or really upset or something." His cheeks reddened slightly. "Then I suppose I sort of revert to my normal appearance." Teddy drank his Butterbeer awkwardly, just for something to do.

"I guess the blue hair is not natural?"

"No, that's morphed." Teddy smiled bashfully.

"It must be something about metamorphmagus's. My cousin always morphs her hair pink!" At least, she used to. Sirius wondered if she'd grown up too much and become too sensible now, and picked a more serious hair colour. He hoped she hadn't. "What do you look like, when you aren't morphing?"

"I've been told I look like my father."

It was an odd choice of words. "But you don't think you do?"

Teddy shrugged carelessly, and Sirius thought he looked like he wasn't going to expand. Perhaps he didn't want to tell his Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor all about his family, and Sirius understood. Maybe he had been too personal. Aware that he might be making Teddy uncomfortable, he quickly changed the subject.

"I'm thinking of getting a pogrebin in for a lesson one week." Sirius grinned conspiratorially. "That would be fun. You know, everyone's scared of them, but it's easy to get rid of them. It only takes a stupefying charm. Or a good kicking."

"A pogrebin? Where are you going to get one from?"

"Oh, I'm sure I'll find one."

"Sir, they're extinct. Don't you remember? It was a few years ago now." Teddy found it difficult to believe that anyone had missed that news- whether they'd been in Azkaban or not. "There were two left, and some bonkers explorer killed one of them. It was all over the Daily Prophet. They said he was responsible for their extinction! There was a trial, he spent time in Azkaban for it."

Sirius nodded, surprised. He'd never though pogrebins could become extinct! He wondered what else he'd missed in sixteen years.

"Maybe I'll get a dragon then, instead." He decided. Bringing a dragon into a classroom sounded dangerous and wild and completely impractical, but that was what Sirius liked best. "They're easy enough to sort out, too. A dragon's eyes are its weakest point, so all you need to know is a good conjunctivitis curse. There's a dragon in Gringotts, you know." He told Teddy.

Teddy shook his head. "No there's not."

"There is! It's hidden right at the bottom, near the vaults of all those other stuck-up pureblood families. But no one knows about it."

"Everyone knows about the Gringotts dragon." Teddy said, as if explaining something very obvious. "It escaped just a few days after I was born. According to my Godfather, it had something to do with him." He smiled wryly. "But then, according to my Godfather, _everything_ has something to do with him."

Talk of Godparents reminded Sirius of Harry. "I've got a Godson." He announced, almost unintentionally. "I'm not much of a Godfather, though. A bit reckless. A bit useless."

Teddy was looking at him curiously. His eyes narrowed fractionally. "That's funny. That's how my Godfather describes his. Not useless," Teddy clarified, "But definitely reckless."

But, thought Sirius, surely no one could be as reckless as he. He bought Harry a broomstick, for merlin's sake! He'd watched in fear as Harry had tumbled from his broom, 50ft in the air and no way of surviving the fall were it not for Dumbledore, and he'd seen the broomstick fly into the Whomping Willow and be crushed to pieces, and he'd thought buying Harry a faster, more dangerous replacement broom had been a good idea.

"I bought my Godson a broomstick one year. A firebolt." He hoped Teddy wouldn't want to go into too much detail about brooms; they had always been more James's area of expertise than his.

"A firebolt?" Teddy repeated incredulously. "I think my Grandma rides one of those!"

Sirius frowned indignantly. "They were top of the range!"

"Yeah, about twenty years ago, Granddad."

"Just because they're old, doesn't mean they're no good."

"Sounds like someone I know."

"I once got trapped by Death Eaters down a well and managed to escape on a Nimbus 1000!"

"Wow. There are no end to your talents." Teddy replied, raising a sceptic eyebrow. "And no beginning, either."

Sirius gaped. "You cheeky bugger! I'll have you know I was a vital part of the war effort! Is this my thank you? I fought Voldemort and all his Death Eaters so kids like you could mock me."

"I bet you're sorry you won."

"How long ago was the war, now?" Sirius mused, mostly to himself. If it had been sixteen years since he fell through the veil, and before that fourteen years since James and Lily died, that meant the Wizarding War would have been…

"Fourteen years ago. Two weeks after my birthday." Teddy said. He was looking at Sirius in astonishment, surprised that someone could forget such a fact. There had been mixed wires; Sirius had meant the first Wizarding War. It wasn't that he'd forgotten the second Wizarding War, rather he'd missed it all together.

"You lose track of time in Azkaban." He tried to clarify, but Teddy didn't look like he believed Sirius's explanation. Sirius was worried about how much else he had unintentionally let slip over the evening, so thinking it was for the best, he suggested that Teddy retire back to his dormitory.

"I think we've spent long enough pretending to be in detention." Sirius announced, setting his now empty bottle of Butterbeer back on the desk. Teddy followed suit, and as he bade his professor goodbye and headed back towards the door, Sirius couldn't help but notice the puzzled look on Teddy's face.

He realised too late what he'd said.

_You lose track of time in Azkaban._

He'd made it sound like he'd been in Azkaban since the ending of the Second Wizarding War. The only people who went to prison after wars were the ones on the wrong side.

Would Teddy put two and two together to get five? Would Teddy think he'd gone to Azkaban as a Death Eater?

* * *

><p><em>"A dragon's eyes are its weakest point, so all you need to know is a good conjunctivitis curse."<em>

_Remember that time in G.O.F when Harry had to face a dragon and Sirius said in his letter "I was going to suggest a conjunctivitis curse, as a dragon's eyes are its weakest point…" (p.353) because I certainly didn't. I think everyone (me included) forgets just how clever Sirius is sometimes so it's fun to put little things like this in!_


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